Tale of a smith
by Elenluin
Summary: The story of Elenluin the smith. Of his friendship with Maglor and Gil-Galad, his and their pain and happiness. From First to Third age, the perspective of a bystander on some of the events of the early ages of ME
1. I: Fall of a city - 1: Ost-In-Edhil

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of JRR Tolkien's characters, only the ideas and Elenluin are mine.

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I. Fall of a City

II. Fall of a star

III. End of an era

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**I: Fall of a City**

Here begins the first part of the tales of Elenluin, the warrior-smith, on a city lost, pain suffered and friendship rekindled.

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_**CH1: Ost-In-Edhil**_

II 1697

In Ost-in-Edhil all was dark. Elenluin stood before his wife and son, motionless. Any time now, the message from Celebrimbor could come, to summon him to the house of the Mirdain, to unite one last time and stand against he who they used to call Annatar.

"Don't go Elen, please stay here..." Elianna pleaded to her husband.

"I can't stay my love, I have to go. I can't let him stand alone. You know that, none of the other smiths has much experience on the battlefield. Always have I been at Celebrimbor's side and today he needs me more than ever," Elenluin whispered back.

"Father, let me go with you!"

Elenluin turned to Eäraumo who stood before him, nearly as tall as himself. Blue eyes were staring at him, so much like his mother's. Elenluin knew that when he had been his son's age, he had participated in a war far greater than this one, but he also knew that his young one lacked experience and training. For although the last four years had been hard he fortunately had grown up in peaceful times. And in truth, his talents were different than his father's, he loved to work with numbers rather than weapons. So the smith hesitated to give him permission to fight by his side.

"'Rau, could you give your mother and I a moment alone please?" The request was made with such a serious and intense expression on Elenluin's face that surprisingly – for he was at that age when "no" was almost the standard reply - the young man didn't even utter a word, but immediately left the room.

"My dear Elianna…" He embraced his wife and held her as close as his armour allowed. His face buried in her long brown hair he whispered: "I don't know what will happen tonight, but the attack is expected at dawn. Promise me, if all goes ill, that you'll hide… Try to get over the mountains, in Lorien they will help."

"I promise," she whispered back.

She knew there was not much hope for them left, unless the long expected help from master Elrond came very quickly. Elenluin however, had received messages in the last weeks from which he could deduce that Elrond's host would not come in time and that Celeborn's Lorien troops were still too far behind the enemy lines. The decisive battle of this war was about to begin and they stood alone. Not the first time this evening Elenluin wondered why he hadn't sent his wife to Lindon or Lothlorien before it was too late. He had asked her numerous times to leave, but every attempt to convince her had failed. She refused to leave the land she loved – they loved. For in Eregion they had found each other, in Eregion they had married, here their son was born. They could not imagine a life elsewhere. But maybe, had he insisted a little more… He suppressed the thought, for now it had become impossible to leave.

Elenluin slowly let go of his wife.  
Holding his hands, blinking away the tears that rose in her eyes she murmured: "We'll meet again my love, if not here, then maybe beyond the circles of Arda."

He tenderly kissed her on the forehead and said: "Would you please call Eäraumo?"

Elianna slowly turned around and Elenluin's heart ached, for he saw her bent shoulders as she climbed the stairs and knew that she was desperately trying not to cry.

"You called for me father?"  
"Yes 'Rau, I want to ask you something."  
The young man noticed that he had been called by his childhood name twice this evening; his father hadn't used it for ages.

"Eäraumo, promise me to stay with your mother."  
Silencing the protest from his son with a move of his hand he continued:  
"I cannot stay here to protect her; you know that Lord Celebrimbor counts on me. And if we don't hold the gates tonight, all will be over… Should that happen, take her to Lothlorien; you know the paths through the mountains?"

"Yes father, but maybe it won't be necessary; maybe we will be victorious again! We have fought for four years now and we have kept our city, haven't we?"

"Yes, we have, but tonight, I feel it will be different… But come, let us speak no more of those things and help me to gird on my sword."

At that moment, a small knock on the door was heard. Elenluin looked at his son, who put down his father's blade to open the door. A messenger came in, bringing word from Celebrimbor that Elenluin's presence was required at the western gates. The smith nodded and with the help of Eäraumo girded on his sword.

"Take care of your mother, boy," was the last thing he said before he followed the messenger, taking a deep breath to regain his composure. He did not look to his son's face again, he knew he would not be able to hold back the tears. The door closed behind him, and so they parted, and never saw each other again.

Elenluin stood on the city wall, trying to see the army of the enemy in this moonless night, thinking about the goodbye letter he had just written to the one he once called brother, now tucked safely into his armour.  
"We are too few," someone behind him suddenly said. He didn't speak, kept staring in the distance. Deep in his heart he knew they would not make it through the night. Finally he answered: "I know, Celebrimbor."

The attack didn't come as a surprise, by dawn the army surged forwards, trying to breach the wall of the city. Eregion's soldiers answered with a flood of arrows, but they had no infinite supplies, locked in their city as they were. It didn't take the enemy too long to get on the walls. Elenluin tried to defend the gate as long as possible, shouting orders and running from one side to the other, but soon there were only a few of his companions left and he decided to retreat to Celebrimbor's standard. Orcs were flooding the city, burning houses, killing everyone they met. At the end, Celebrimbor and Elenluin fought back to back, only the two of them were left, the standard long gone and Elenluin was tired, so tired.

Then everything went black.

He woke up as he was thrown on the ground in a dark room, he vaguely heard Orcs talk, but slipped back into unconsciousness.  
Utter darkness followed, filled with questions that he refused to answer and pain that he controlled as well as he could. Day and night got mixed in that cave and all he knew for sure was that one day, he didn't know when, someone had carefully lifted him up and brought him into the daylight. Then the memories were unclear again and full of pain, until he woke up in a temporary encampment, in the valley of Imladris.


	2. Chapter 2: Imladris

Elrond was walking through the encampment, heading for a large blue pavilion. He entered the tent with a slight nod to the guards that stood on both sides of the entrance. Inside it was dark and it took his eyes a moment to distinguish a person sitting at a desk.  
"My King" he said with a bow.  
"Come, come Elrond, no need for such formalities, we know each other far too long for such games," the man, sitting with his back to the entrance answered, "how are things going?"  
He turned around and Elrond now noticed the weary look in Gil-Galad's eyes.  
"Most of the wounded are recovering well... and the supplies you brought with you are most welcome, especially the medicines," he said with a sigh. "Alas too many died, only very few of the smiths survived."

The High-King bowed his head and said: "The Gwaith-i-Mirdain gone. How much of our knowledge is lost now, how many things will be forgotten of what we once knew? Who survived Elrond, did any of the smiths make it?"

Elrond sighed once again. "Some of the apprentices survived, they were sent away in time and managed to escape the downfall. But of the Masters smiths, not many made it. They were in the front line, Gil-Galad, close to Celebrimbor. Maybe five survived, and of those five, there are only one or two that have a decent chance to ever exercise their profession again, their wounds are bad my friend."

Gil-Galad's eyes had an even more worried look to them than before. "Elrond, where is Elenluin?"

"He lives, but he as well is gravely wounded. I found him in a dark Orc-cave. They have tortured him..." Elrond, not being new to the battlefield, could not find any other word to describe his feelings when he found the smith than pure shock. The elf's back had become one bleeding mass due to the many laces and beatings, his shoulder dislocated from hanging in his chains, his face pale white under the black and blue bruises. The fight with the Orcs in that cave had been a swift one, the hard part was to prevent them from killing their prisoner as well as themselves. However, they had succeeded with a surprise attack to sweep him out while eliminating the orc-nest. After that, they had carefully brought him to this hidden valley.

"It was to be expected," Gil-Galad murmured, "the dark one doubtlessly wanted to get as much information as possible from the smiths. How bad is he? And where can I find him? I need to talk to him Elrond, I need to know what he told them, how much they suspect. They must have felt lucky to catch one of the key smiths, they must have tried very hard to get him to speak."

"My king, don't expect any answers yet from him. We think he refused to talk, from what we heard before we entered their camp we even think that he did not speak at all to the orcs, which is indeed why they tried to get the information from him by other means. I am convinced we do not need to fear him telling them anything – and in any case, we are sure we eliminated all the orcs that were present. However, next to his physical wounds, there is more my friend." He paused for a moment "When we recaptured Eregion, we found his wife and son, Ereinion, never will I forget that moment." The pained look on Elrond's face told Gil-Galad all he needed to know on how horrible their deaths had been.

"Does he know it?"  
"Yes, I told him myself, he kept asking where they were..."  
There had been no way to resist the requests of Elenluin, he would not accept any help and surprisingly, even in his weakened state, he was still strong enough to turn against those who tried to care for him. He had tried to rise, to push away those who wanted to disinfect his wounds and had been feverish and restless. They came to call for Elrond, in the hope that he would be able to calm the raged wounded man. When he entered, he saw the pain and uncertainty in Elenluin's eyes and had decided that he needed to know.

It was a painful thing, to bring such news, and as he had told him that there was no more hope for his family, that he had buried them in the ruins of Ost-in-Edhil with his own hands, he saw all strength disappear out of the man in front of him. Long after, Elrond wondered what went on in his mind, as he did not speak, nor cry, not even seemed to react, he just lied down and very slowly and in a deliberate way closed his eyes.  
"He is unreachable to all of us, he has not spoken since I told him, now weeks ago."

"Bring me to him." The king suddenly arose.


	3. Chapter 3: Music

Gil-Galad sat next to Elenluin's bed and was thinking.

Many days he had spent here now, whenever his duties allowed it, but still Elenluin hadn't spoken. The smith was very weak, although Elrond had assured him that his wounds were healing as quickly as possible. He kept staring up to the ceiling of the tent, refusing all food, only drinking some water. It seemed to Gil-Galad that the man had lost all will to live. He himself liked to be here, close to the one he once called brother, an escape from the hectic war councils, where each day a more difficult decision needed to be taken. How he wished that this man would be there to help, he would know how to move ahead, he knew the enemy better than any other. 

Elenluin woke up again. He did not stir, for he knew that even the slightest movement would cause him pain. Without looking, he knew that Gil-Galad was sitting by his side. Weeks now he had been there, not speaking a word, just sitting there. Why did the High-King even bother, he was merely a simple smith, a youth-friend at the most. Surely he was not worthy of this honour… Lying at his side, being turned around now and then by Elrond's healers to get his many wounds to heal he spent his days looking to the white canvas of the tent. All he could think of these last weeks was that he was not worthy of the attention of any man, and definitely not of one as great as the High-King. Why couldn't he leave him alone, let him dwell in the shadows of the past. None now was left, all had perished and he desperately wished that he could follow, to whatever place they had gone… But they would not allow him to, tending his wounds as there was nothing he could do to resist, too weak to lift his arm, let alone stand up and walk away.  
The longer he was lying in that tent, the more he realised that nothing would become again as it was. Elianna wasn't going to suddenly enter, smiling as she used to do, lovingly tending his wounds – as she had done after the first skirmishes.

Today Gil-Galad had decided to try something different. A memory had come to him late at night and he carefully touched the strings of his small harp and he started to play a soft song. A song that not had been heard since the end of the greatest of all wars, so long ago now, mourning, lamenting. But it seemed contemporary again at this time with the loss of so many men and women fresh in their minds, the survivors every day confronted with the destruction of their lives. Many had been saved, but to what cost? Who had not lost someone of his family, who had not been forced to leave all his belongings, both great and small? Who had not lost his home?

The melody seemed to flow on and on and many passers-by outside the tent stopped for a moment to listen. The few that were old enough to remember bowed their heads, sunken in thoughts.

Elenluin felt the music in his chest. Recognizing the song of a dear lost friend, he felt the deeply hidden memories of an older grief than his present pain surfacing. Tears flowed over his cheeks, he could not stop it. After all these weeks of self-control, it felt like the dam that had kept his emotions finally had been breached. It hurt.

While he was playing the High-King took a sideward glance and noticed the tears. "Good," he thought, "this could be the first step…"


	4. Chapter 4: Recovery

As the song finished, Gil-Galad moved closer to the master smith, touching his arm. "Elenluin, my brother, these are dark times, but light will come again, I promise."

Elenluin slowly turned his head, for the first time really looking at the High king in all those weeks. When he spoke, his voice sounded hoarse and weak "Why are you here? Should you not be hunting the plains for the one who destroyed my people? "

Gil-Galad slowly shook his head. "No, we are not ready yet. When Elrond arrived in Ost-in-Edhil, he was barely able to get the refugees out, between his troops and Celeborn's Lorien force. He was driven back to this valley, where he called to me for help."

"Celeborn came?" The silver haired Silvan elf had resided for a while in Ost-in-Edhil when they first established the city and he remembered that he had a daughter that was only two centuries older than his son. He suppressed the thought immediately, there was no use in comparing anymore now one would live and the other was dead.

Gil-Galad nodded "So did the dwarves of Khazad-dûm, they got driven back as well though and it is said that they sealed the gates." Sadly he added "They were all too late, and I wish I would have been able to be here sooner with my troops."

"It is not uncommon for you not to show up." Born from the pain he was experiencing, the sorrow and anger he felt knowing that his city was lost, combined with his deeply hidden grief for what had happened to his family, he said what should not have been said.

Gil-Galad swiftly looked up, but to Elenluin's surprise, no rebuke followed. Instead he recognized something else in his King's eyes. Guilt. "I, I do not know what to say to that. I know I was not there when I should have been. I believed my duties didn't allow me to come when I should have. And for what it is worth now, I apologize and am sorry."

Elenluin moved his head a little. The conversation and tears had exhausted him and trying to hide from the one sitting next to his bed, he closed his eyes.

Gil-Galad watched him fall asleep before he pensively stood up and walked out that tent, unsure if his apologies had been accepted.

Elrond and his men had not been idle in these last months. Fortifications around the valley had been raised and permanent housing was starting to be built. The wounded would soon find their place in a newly built hospital barrack, where they would be better sheltered from the cold that was coming.

Thus the High King found his foster son there, supervising the move of medicines and supplies into the new facility. Studying the art of healing always had been a passion of Elrond, and he had to admit that the boy had talent, and patience.

"Elrond, how are things going here?"

"Very well Aranya, we are making progress and we expect to move the patients here by next week. We will be on time, before winter comes. Have you been to Elenluin?" Elrond kept looking to the young elves that were positioning the different salves and ointments on the racks, making sure they organised in the right way. He knew by now where to find the king when he was not in his quarters leading the war council.

"Yes, and I would like to talk to you about him. He spoke to me today."

Elrond quickly turned to the king. "He did? How is he?"

Gil-Galad hesitated a moment "He only asked about what we were doing about Sauron, and it occurred to me afterwards that he not even once mentioned what had happened to his family. He seemed more angry than sad. At least he made eye contact."

"We will have to wait to see what becomes of him, Gil-Galad, it is too early to tell."


	5. Chapter 5: Return to Lindon

It was what they called the 1698 year of the second age, and Elenluin returned to Lindon. Gil-Galad would leave in the morning and he would accompany his king wherever he went. Elrond fiercely disagreed and wanted him to stay and rest for a longer time, but he could not withhold the master smith from returning to court.

"My King," he pleaded, "you tell him he needs to stay for a while longer! You know his wounds are far from healed…"

"I understand Elrond, but I will not make him stay against his will. He has healed well enough to cope with the journey, as you have confirmed yourself and I will not leave him behind now."

Elrond sighed, it was a difficult situation. The battle of Eregion had been more than a year ago and even though indeed Elenluin's wounds had closed and healed and his physical strength had mostly returned, his whole back was covered with scars and if these were not properly tended, he feared the smith would suffer from them for a long time. On the other hand, he understood Gil-Galad's concern, the king needed to go back to Lindon, the war was spreading and he needed to move back to his headquarters. They had agreed that Elrond would stay here in Imladris, to keep another stronghold, and to form a new community with the survivors of Eregion, but the High King needed to return to his city after a hard year of fighting.

Elenluin had come a long way, slowly recovering from his mental and physical wounds. Elrond was surprised on how much influence the king's presence and somehow an old song had had. They seemed to have saved him from complete madness. When he asked the king on what the song had once meant to the smith, he did not get a real clear answer. The master of Imladris had been only a boy at the time when it was written and Gil-Galad seemed to carefully avoid all conversation on the topic.

He did not want Elenluin to leave the care of his healers just yet, but he knew that there was more at stake than only Elenluin's health. The master smith would be of infinite value to the High King, for his mastery in the forge was only surpassed by his tactical insight and experience on the battlefield, a talent highly needed in these hostile times.

"I will keep an eye on him Elrond, I will, but I will not leave him here."

Thus master Elrond finally gave in and allowed the smith to leave for Lindon.


	6. Chapter 6: The patrol

II 1700

Ereinion Gil-Galad, High King of the Noldor in exile, was standing in front of a window in his counselling room and counted, two, six, twenty… relieved he let go of his breath, at least of this patrol all had returned. As he watched the men dismounting their horses, he saw that it was Elenluin's group. He turned around and went back to his chair, ready to hear the next petitioner in front of him. Things were not going well, for two years they had fought now and the last couple of months message after message reached him that Sauron's forces were gaining terrain in Eriador. Each day he saw his forces shrinking, day by day he lost more men. Somehow he needed to strike once and strike hard, but he had not the troops to do so anymore and he still had no word from the help he requested from the men of the island… Only two months ago he had sent multiple patrols over the mountains and all the few that returned reported was that Sauron was gaining control of the rest of the countries.

After completing his audiences, he hurried himself to the chambers of Elenluin. He could not wait for the official report, he needed to know as soon as possible how his war leader assessed the situation. When he approached the door of Elenluin's quarters, he saw Gwillion standing in front of it and with a bow the servant greeted his High King, "My Lord, sir Elenluin has requested not to be disturbed…"

Gil-Galad observed Gwillion and didn't like the look in his eyes. "What is wrong? Is he hurt?"

"No my Lord, I don't think he is, but every time he returns from his patrols he orders me to stay out and keep everyone out of his quarters for the next day." Gwillion said disapprovingly.

"Tell him I want to speak to him Gwillion. Now."

The frown on Gil-Galad's forehead convinced the servant that there was no other way than to heed his request and opening the door he carefully entered his master's quarters to announce the visitor.

"Sir Elenluin, the High King is here, he wants to speak to you."

To his surprise the answer came immediately: "Then we should not keep him waiting for too long, come here Gwillion" he heard softly from the bedroom. When he entered he saw Elenluin sitting on his bed, looking very pale. "Help me up." Gwillion did as he was told, and was surprised when he felt how his master needed to lean on him to simply stand.

"Get me to the terrace, I can do with some fresh air, and then send the King in"

In the meantime Gil-Galad was waiting before the closed doors, pushing back his impatience and trying to guess why his brother did not just let him in immediately, as he normally would. When Gwillion returned, he saw in his eyes that irritation had made way for worry. Bowing the servant said: "you can enter my lord, you will find him at his balcony"

As the King stepped into the room he found Elenluin facing the bay outside. He knew it was one of his favourite places, in this corner of the building no-one could see nor hear him, while he could enjoy the sound and smell of the ever moving sea.

"How did it go Elenluin?"

Elenluin half-turned around while he firmly kept his grip on the handrail of the balcony. "It is even worse than you feared," he said," Sauron is completely in control of most of Eriador."

Although Gil-Galad had expected this news, it still felt as a blow. "Did you get a view on the movements of his troops? Is there anything we need to change on the location of our defences? "

The general nodded, yes, they would need to change their tactics from what he had seen

"Let's go to your desk then and look at the maps, I need to know more about this."

As Elenluin moved and let go of the balcony rail, he felt the pain that he had tried to control for so long suddenly increase and all went black.

Turning around Gil Galad saw him fall, and caught his arm just before he hit the ground. Slowly he let the man down. He felt Elenluin's pulse, quicker than normal but not alarmingly high; what was going on here? There did not seem to be any visible wounds? As he was standing up to go out and call Gwillion for aid, Elenluin opened his eyes again. "Help me in my bed friend, if you want to?" Ereinion knelt down again "Are you wounded? Shall I call for a healer?"

"No, no new wounds, forget about the healer and just help me up will you, let me lay down in my bed and help me remove my shirt". It was not a request and sometimes even the High king of the Noldor had no choice but listen when Sir Elenluin gave orders. Carefully supporting him, he helped Elenluin to sit on the bed and lifted the shirt over his head. At that moment he saw his back for the first time in two years and gasped.

It was Elrond who had mostly taken on the physical wellbeing of Elenluin when they were still in Imladris and later on the smith had brushed away any care he would show by telling him that his servant was looking after the wounds. The only visible reminder had been the web of white lines in his neck and on his upper arms. Now, it shocked him to see the true extent of his past injuries. Scar tissue was everywhere, in some places it had coloured almost silvery white, while on others it was still bright red. Where his armour bounds touched the skin, wounds had opened up again. Not a single spot on his back was free of scars. "Elenluin…" He was lost for words.

His eyes focused on a point far away, the smith said "every hour of every day I feel it, but mostly it is bearable. Only… when we have been on patrol so long, I…" he paused for a moment, taking some breaths before he continued "I just need some time to recover. Don't worry, tomorrow it will be better again Ereinion, I…"

Gil-Galad knew enough, skilled fingers moving over the scars, he felt his foster brother's pain. It was in fact a small wonder that he could walk, let alone fight, with this immense amount of scars and wounds, the stiffness that he would have needed to overcome to fluently move... He knew that Elenluin was hardened and did not easily show his feelings; but never would he have guessed that he was capable of bearing so much pain without anyone even noticing.

Thinking back at what Elrond told him some years ago, he felt angry with himself for not keeping a closer eye on his chief commander. If he put two and two together, he suspected that Elenluin had been in this state each time after he returned from a patrol, and he, his lord, his brother, had not even known.

He made a quick decision, "I'm going to call Gwillion to get you some medicines. You need some rest."

Elenluin didn't react, the pain was overwhelming and he needed all his focus to cope, hardly heard what the king was saying. He carefully turned himself to his side, just focused on breathing and tried to shut off the pain.

Gil-Galad waited at his side, holding his hand, until Gwillion brought the medicine he had sent for.

As Elenluin took the liquid, he recognized the taste from the time when he had spent months laying in a small tent in Imladris and knew what would follow. And although he hated to lose control, this time he was grateful for a couple of hours of painless sleep….


	7. Chapter 7: Decisions

With his brother deeply asleep, Gil-Galad left the room, giving Gwillion strict orders to keep everyone out and promised to return within a few hours. He headed straight for his own quarters, he needed some time to think.

He had not crossed the hall even halfway through when he saw Cirdan heading in the other direction. "Ereinion, did you just see Elenluin? I wanted to hear his report as soon as possible."

"Let's find us a place to talk, Cirdan, join me in my office; Elenluin cannot be disturbed now."

With a puzzled look on his face, the shipwright nodded.

When they entered Gil-Galad's office, Cirdan could no longer keep silent. "What is going on Ereinion, you look like you've seen a ghost."

"Many things shipwright, many things." he answered with a sigh.

"Sauron has taken more land hasn't he?"

"Yes, that's one thing, however, I don't know the true extent of his invasion yet Cirdan, for Elenluin was not yet able to tell me."

Confused Cirdan asked: "How come? He is not the man to come back without a full report? Is he wounded?"

Gil Galad turned to his foster-father and sat down in his chair… "How much do you know of what happened to him in Eregion?"

"I am aware to some extent; I know he was captured and tortured and that it took Elrond a very long time to heal him…. and that he would have still died if not for you."

The king nodded, "apparently even I underestimated his wounds of the past, for when I entered his quarters today I found him not well at all."

Cirdan frowned, "and he couldn't give you details you said? How bad is it really Ereinion? I've seen that man continue to think and take command of an entire army when he was close to mortally wounded, I've seen him fight with death's breath in his neck before… I cannot imagine him not being able to give you the full story."

"You're fully right, but it seems that he has more scars than we could ever have imagined, they are not well healed, not even after the years that have gone by. He suffers badly from them each time he has to go out on patrol; he stays in his quarters upon his return to cope with it. Cirdan, he has tried to hide it from me for months, maybe years… I accidentally discovered it just today because I didn't wait for his reporting and went to his chambers myself. He fainted as soon as he had to move my friend. There are scars… the pain must have exhausted him in the past years, only his mental strength must have kept him going and I feel terrible for not noticing."

The shipwright approached his foster son and put his hand on his shoulder. "You cannot know nor see everything my boy, you know that by now don't you?"

"I know, I know,… but still, it is my duty to take care of my people and to be aware of how they are doing, I've spent so many hours listening to councillors, looking to maps, moving pawns on the field of war, that I forgot that these too are people, that I neglected to listen to what they were saying, forgot even again that Elenluin is not only my general, but above all my little brother, who has no other but me and I feel like I failed him - again…. I had to promise Elrond that I would take care of his wounds, and what did I do? I just relied on simple words, never asking more, always happy to hear the obvious. How can I make this right, what should I do?"

Cirdan looked pensively at him. "Do you truly care about him?"

Gil Galad looked up with a fierce look in his eyes "off course I do! Aside from you and Elrond, he is my only family, I love him like the brother I never had"

"Then take some days off from your duty, spend time with him to understand where his pain is, for I don't believe it is only the consequence of his scars… Evil is in this world Ereinion, and he has been touched by it more than anyone of us, his pain is deep and old, and goes far beyond the tortures he was made to endure… he is strong, but this battle he cannot win on his own.. Talk to him and learn, it is worth it."

The king sat thinking for some time, pondering. He saw the value of the advice of the shipwright, for not only would he be able to tend his brother's wounds but also this would give him some time to determine his course in war the next weeks, and the Valar knew that he needed some time to think on how to proceed….

"Very well Shipwright, since the campaign season is over anyway, I will spend some time with my brother. Cancel all my appointments for the next weeks, invite Elrond to visit us here in Lindon. I call for council, until then, I will remain with Elenluin."

Cirdan nodded approvingly and rose, "very well my boy, I will take care of the practicalities, you go back to him…"

* * *

Hours later, when messages were sent and news was spread at court that the High King would not attend any audiences in the next week until a council was held, Cirdan was back in Ereinion's office.

He was looking at a map, staring at the fields on which this eternal war was being fought, but after ten minutes, he closed his eyes and sat down in a chair, he could not keep focus. Moments before he had gone with Gil Galad to Elenluin's room, to see if there was any more he could do and to support his foster son… when they entered the bedroom, Elenluin was sleeping, his naked back fully visible. Even to the shipwright, the sight had been a shock, for Gil Galad had not told him that at some points, the skin had cracked and was festering… the smell of the wounds, combined with the pain that although he was sedated remained visible on Elenluin's otherwise so unmoved face made him wonder. How could anyone survive this, how could one hide so long?


	8. Chapter 8: The past

As Ereinion Gil Galad was sitting once more next to the man that once had called him brother, he thought about the years gone by. Elenluin had always been a calm and composed person, even as a child, when he came to court, just having lost his father and mother. He had been a quiet boy of only seven, always observing, seldom speaking. It had cost him time to gain the trust of the young one, but during the long flight after the battle they now called "Unnumbered Tears", they had become inseparable. Why he got close to this particular orphan amongst all that came to the island at that time, he did not know. Maybe the recent death of his own father and the knowledge that this one's sire had been serving him, had made him feel obliged to care. He felt that playing with the young one took his own mind off his grief and uncertainty that he felt so deeply at that time. They all needed a home and he had tried to give at least this little boy, whom had no one left in this world, some comfort, passing on the care he got from Cirdan.

Growing up they discovered that they were surprisingly alike, both quite good in leading others despite their introvert characters and both loving tactics of the battlefield. When the first girls came along and one or the other fell in love, they found out that neither of them liked to talk a lot about personal matters but nevertheless understood each other without words, as only brothers could.

Many an era had passed since those days and although their bond went deep, there had been times when trust had disappeared between them… looking back, he thought that it had all started with the war of Wrath. There, Elenluin had joined the forces, despite him forbidding him to go, and against his expectations the once so timid youngster had proven himself to be a more than capable soldier…

He grew and developed further and became quite a known fighter for whom his soldiers would walk through fire. When his blue starred shield was seen, enemies quavered, for although he seemed always composed and silent, he was a fierce warrior on the battlefield. Ereinion seconded that thought; it was probably because he was always so composed and unmoved that his enemies got frightened.

He pondered if things might have gone different, if he himself had not been so busy at that time. On one side there was the war, on the other hand he had wanted to give Elrond and Elros a good home. They had come with the Feanorians and they had all been so happy to see them unharmed that they were the centre of attention. On top the two seemed to be sensible, well-spoken, intelligent boys. Since they had hardly known their true family, he had felt obliged to care for them, as their closest kin. For the Valar's sake, they had been only thirteen years old and had been through so much already... So it became that all his time was spent with either the war or the twins and if he looked back now, he had neglected Elenluin completely, not acting as much of a brother, only using him as one of his many councillors or strategists. The boy had become a man without him noticing, growing ever more quiet and stern. And somewhere along the way, by a twist of fate, Elenluin, the quiet, solemn elf, befriended Maglor, the greatest bard that ever lived. Ereinion wondered on what they had said to each other back then, if they ever talked the Silmarils, what things Elenluin had learned from the bard that might have changed his look on life.

After the end of the war and the betrayal of the Feanorians, Elenluin had formally asked him to be allowed to lead the patrols to the Misty Mountains, and he, he had granted the request, not thinking more of it and knowing that he could use an experienced and skilled commander there. He could, no should, have done better than that, knowing how deep the respect ran between Maglor and Elenluin. He should have seen his brother's pain upon the treason and disappearance of bard and he should have realised that the blue star was running as far from memories as he could… but he hadn't, he didn't even know very well how Elenluin, who was now mostly wandering around on some errand or another to clean the country from evil, spent his days when returning to Lindon. All he knew was that while he himself became more trained on affairs of state, Elenluin increased his skills as a leader of war.

Looking back, the training grounds and the smithy would be where Elenluin could be found, typically teaching the young ones swordplay and thinking of improvements on the balance and design of their long swords. A whole generation was trained by him, including some of their finest fighters. Hundreds of years passed and Gil Galad was so occupied with every day a new problem, every day a new decision to be made that he lost track of where his brother went.

Then came the day that Celebrimbor decided to go to find his luck, and although it should not have been, it came as a surprise to him that on that day as well Elenluin told the king that he wanted to leave with the smith.

After that, well, not much there to tell. In those early years of the settlement in Eregion, messages had reached him that Elenluin wanted to get married –and invited his brother. However his state affairs did not allow him to go, or at least that was what he had told himself at that time, and he had sent Elrond to attend the festivities instead. The same happened at the birth of the smith's son, and although he knew there was no point in regrets, if he could have done anything different, he would have gone.

The only moment he personally intervened – and the only time he actually ever met Elenluin's family, was when they had heard that Annatar had gone to Eregion after he had sent him away here in Lindon. When he had met Elenluin back then, upon one of his formal tours through the country, harsh words were spoken, from both sides, as he insisted that the smith would leave and come back to Lindon where he belonged in the military council, as he foresaw that war was coming. Elenluin had answered in not to be misunderstood language, that as far he was concerned, he did not owe any favour anymore to the High king, who did not seem to care for the faith of the people of Eregion and that he would stay with his wife and son, for that was where he belonged. They had parted in a strained atmosphere, and he knew that they had been both angry and hurt.

It was only in the long months after the fall of Eregion, sitting next to this man's bed, not knowing if he would live or die that he had realised how much he cared for him and how much had gone wrong…

His eyes fell on his friend's magnificent great sword that was lying on the floor now. He saw at the grip that there were still traces of blood on it. There probably had not been any time to remove the stains, and never would Elenluin let a servant do it. However, the sword needed cleaning, so Gil Galad called Gwillion and after some time, supplies arrived.

The servants looked at him like they had seen a ghost as they left the room – a king, doing a servant's job was not exactly a common sight. While he unsheathed the blade, he admired the blue fabric that covered its sheath, embroidered with tiny silver and blue stars. When looking closer, he saw that the pattern started to disappear at certain friction points. So soon, so soon Elianna's work was fading… Slowly and pensively he started cleaning. In doing so, he had to admire once again the design of the weapon. Truly, here was one of the greatest pieces of art ever created by the elves. Blue was its colour, in different shades, from the star-shaped sapphire on the hilt to the point of the blade. Not even the famous swords of Gondolin had a glow on the steel as deep grey-blue as this one. He marvelled at the delicate pattern of mithril stars, forming the shape of Menelmacar if one looked well, shining brightly in the moonlight, otherwise hidden in the blade. As he cleaned it with long strokes, he felt the power that emanated from the weapon and knew that with this sword, his brother had surpassed himself. Even Celebrimbor, he had heard, though more skilled in the ways of forging than any other amongst elves, was amazed by the craftsmanship of its owner considering weaponry. Elenluin, although by then included in the Gwaith-i-Mirdain, was always one to go his own way. He had never been interested in creating jewellery, but instead had grown to become the first weapon smith of Eregion, integrating the knowledge of the dwarves from near-by Moria, with Elven finesse and skill. Gil-Galad knew that he had made many a sword on order, for lords amongst dwarfs, elves and even men. This smith could not only forge beautiful weapons, but knew from true fighting experience how to make them perfectly fit to their owner.

Pausing, he read the inscriptions on the hilt - _Aiya Eärendil Elenion Ancalima_ it said- hail Earendil, brightest of stars, and looking out of the window into the night sky, he remembered once more how it was, back then, at the end of what they now called the first age. When the future had seemed bright, and all evil had been thought gone from this world…


	9. Chapter 9: When the world was young

_**First age - I 545**_

It was late evening and Elenluin was standing on a hill, looking over the encampment before him. As night was falling, he could almost feel the tension radiating from the thousands of campfires located below. The battle was about to begin, he felt it in the air… he wished one more time that the star they had seen appearing at the horizon really was a Silmaril, that Earendil had somehow reached the Valar and that this was a sign that they were with them in this war. His first real fight, he was excited, afraid even, when he thought of tomorrow. He turned his eye to the tents at the far east of the clearing, where his sharp eyes could just discern the blue banner with the silver stars, where his brother was… Ereinion would not like it when he found out that he had ignored his orders and joined his company today. He had left Balar secretly just after Gil-Galad's troops. He trusted his commander to not betray him to his brother, he had talked it through with Ilarmen, this was not the time to stay home and wait. Ereinion needed to realize that he was no child anymore, his training completed, just experience missing and anyway, he was only a mere twenty years younger than his foster brother. He was the only one left now, remembering his father and mother, all his family, he would not stay behind when battle was about to be fought at the borders of his homeland. Revenge was calling; he would take his place in the army of the West and fight against the evil that had destroyed his home. Besides, he somehow knew that no matter how it ended, the world would be changed afterwards. He would do his duty and with his cohort defend the right flank of his brother's legion.

He felt the now familiar shape of a small book against his breast, underneath his armour. He had received it from Gil Galad more than twenty years ago, not knowing what to do with it… Now he had filled the first page with a goodbye letter that he hoped no one would ever need to read. He had seen others, thinking, writing, singing in a similar mood as his this evening, lingering between melancholy for what had been and hope and fear for what the morning would bring. Few hours remained, down he went again, back to his tent, trying to get some rest before the real fight would start, when dawn would come.

As light came, darkness began. He had no idea if it went on for hours or days, he did not know afterwards how many times he diverted a blow, how often he ducked away just in time, how many friends he saw falling, dying, how many enemies he killed, how many blows he received, where the pain was coming from, how it sounded, how it smelled, how it felt. It just disappeared in blackness. His whole world narrowed down to the enemy before him, the flash of a sword, a spear. He only remembered the sheer endlessness of the fight, never stopping, a dreamlike dance between life and death.

Then he saw his commander collapse, and suddenly their wing was falling apart. His comrades seemed lost, looking around, some threw down their weapons and ran, others just fought further without looking up. At that moment instinct took over and shouting, motioning, he pulled them back together, knowing that they had to keep the flank, could not retreat or his own brother would be in danger. Gritting his teeth, he fought on, ignoring the blood that was now pouring from many scratches, ignoring the tiredness and pain in his muscles.

Evening was falling, and the enemies seemed to retreat. He was not sure they really had won the battle, but at least they had kept their ground. Tired, he looked around him and saw that the fields were covered with blood, but most of his comrades that had survived the initial attack were still alive, standing around him, congratulating him for what they called "his" victory. He was dazed, not realizing why they were calling him their leader now, swaying on his feet, finally too tired to stand any longer.

A strong hand grasped his upper arm and steadied him. "Stay on your feet, boy. I don't know where your tents are located, but if you want to rest properly, my master invites you into his pavilion"

Elenluin turned to the man beside him "Thank you my lord" he tried to bow as appropriate when talked to by an elder, but did not manage to move without losing his equilibrium, so decided to stay standing instead. Quickly he looked at the coat of arms the man was wearing on his right shoulder and recognized a pattern that made him gasp.

Later that evening, when with some help of his mates he had returned to the encampment, he washed and tended his wounds sitting on his make-shift bed. The others had gone out to fetch their dinner, but he just wanted to be alone for a while, before he would join his comrades again around the evening fires. He heard noises and talking outside and a flap of their common tent was opened. As he looked up he saw what he had already expected, Ereinion Gil-Galad stepped in with a frown on his forehead and an angry trait around his mouth "What do you think you are doing here? How come you disobeyed my orders?"

Calm as he always was, he answered: "I will not stay behind when we are all in danger, there is no safe place, you know that as well as I. I am no longer a child, Ereinion, and I am here for my father and mother, for all my family, I am the only one remaining."

He had expected the High King to start shouting next but to his surprise Ereinion sighed, his anger disappearing as quickly as it had risen and came to sit next to him, looking at him with weary eyes. "I should be mad at you, you know, you should not be here, I had wanted to spare you from this for a longer time…" he stared in the distance, "When from the top of the hill I saw Ilarmen fall, I knew we were in trouble, the ninth was falling apart. Then I saw someone shouting them back into their stances, keeping them together. Even at that point I did not recognize you, little one. I just saw a wolf fighting, dancing with his enemies and never being hit. I saw the hesitation growing in your enemies, and their retreat was a direct consequence of their fear for you." Gil-Galad looked up: "We were trying to find out who our unexpected leader was, and when Cirdan told me he recognized your style from the training grounds, my heart skipped a beat, I could not imagine loosing you too…" He wiped his hand across his face and the pained look that had been there disappeared as the young High King regained his composure. "We almost lost Elenluin, that flank was a crucial point. You did more than well for your first battle, brother… and I am glad you seem unharmed."

Elenluin didn't know what to say at this. Feeling uncomfortable under the caring glances of his brother, he brusquely stood up, a little less fluent than he would have preferred, for although he would never admit it, his muscles pained him. "Just some cuts and bruises, nothing to worry about. Do you want a drink?"

"No, I should go back to my pavilion, they do not know I came here, will you join us for diner? No need to hide anymore, after today, I promise, I will not send you back. Even more, I am in need of you now that you are here, unfortunately Ilarmen was not the only one who fell today"

"Well brother, I already got an invite today, one that I do not know if I will or even should accept. Maglor's men were next to me today and they passed their master's invite, he would like to see me."

Gil-Galad smiled, "does he know who you are?"

"No, I don't think so"

"Then go and meet him, the bard you so admire, go and listen to what he has to say and hear him sing if you are lucky. I will see you again in the morning; council is at dawn in Cirdan's tent."

Sometime later, Elenluin sat on the side of his bed again. He had tried to rest, feeling weary and restless at the same time. Loose images were tumbling through his head, he saw friends falling, blood everywhere, and he did not know how to get rid of them. He decided that although it was still rather early, he would go to Maglor's tent. For sure, a meeting with the great bard would ease his troubled mind.

When he approached the bard's pavilion, the guards did not even ask a question, but beckoned him to come in, obviously aware of the invitation. Music was sounding, and he paused a moment, mesmerized by the beauty of the song, it seemed like he could see Menelmacar the voice was singing about, rising in the east…

The song drew to an end and he stepped forward, bowing for the lord in front of him. "My lord Maglor, thank you for your invitation." Elenluin noticed that the bard was alone in his tent, to his surprise no servant, or any other elf was present.

The son of Feanor stood up, laying down his harp: "ah here we have the young man that so bravely fought and kept his patrol together." "Sit, my boy, and eat, for you look tired and hungry. Tell me, what is your name, for you know me, but I don't know anything about you, except for the fact that you are one of Gil-Galad's company"

"My name is Elenluin of Hithlum, Lord"

Maglor gave him an inquiring look. "Well Elenluin of Hithlum, welcome to my tent and table, eat if you like, and rest, and let us talk"

Sitting on the soft bench, with some food in front of him, he had a little time to look around. Interested he peeked at all the musical instruments lying on the benches close to him, and for a moment he could forget what he had seen and done that day.

"So Elenluin, tell me something more about yourself, Hithlum you say is your home, but although I have travelled those lands many times, I never met such a brave youngster there, nor heard of one?"

Elenluin looked up from his plate; he knew that the lord Maglor had spent a long time defending what they now called Maglor's gap close to his birth country. "Although it is where I was born and the one place I will always call my home, I did not live there for a very long time my Lord. I left as a child, after Nirnaeth Arnoediad, where my lord father Herunim died in service of Fingon. My mother died not long after and I was sent to the island to live at Lord Gil-Galad's court" He didn't like talking about those times, it had been hard for a child to be torn away from all that was dear to him.

The son of Feanor seemed lost in thought for a while. Elenluin quietly ate his stew and let his eyes wander once more over the musical instruments. He played the flute and his fingers were itching to touch one that he saw lying nearby.

"Herunim you say was your sire…. I remember him, always close to his lord, always watching, always there where he needed to be. Loyal to the end." Maglor's eyes refocused suddenly, as if he returned from a world long gone. "so I saw you today, my boy, and you fought valiantly, but what is more, you kept your head when those around you were panicking. "

"Actually my Lord, I only did what everyone would have done, I did not want to see more of my company falling" He quietly answered "just trying to do the right thing."

Maglor nodded "That, young man, proves my point even more. Ereinion clearly inherited his father's talent for putting the right person in the right place, and I can see now why he made you part of that cohort in the most critical position"

"My Lord, I… I consider the high king as my brother," Elenluin continued softly, his eyes on the table before him, "I grew up at his court and he showed me great kindness, however, today, he did not know that I was here. He forbade me to come, but I refused to stay home at this point, where I feel that the world is turning and nothing will be the same again ever after."

Lifting his head, he found himself looking straight into Maglor's smiling face "so you defied the high king, fought your battle and saved the day, some nerve you got boy."

Elenluin felt uncomfortable but kept control, his face as still as it was before, as he thought of a proper answer. He found none. Instead, he decided he would ask what he had wanted to ask from the moment he entered the tent. "My lord, excuse my question, but… Do you play that flute?" He stared again at the table, suddenly feeling somewhat shy and expecting a deviating answer from the great bard.

Maglor, however, started to laugh out loud now "yes Elenluin, I do, it appears that you _are_ a bold young man, what would you like to hear?"

"Actually my lord, what material is it made of? I've never seen one that was not wooden?"

Maglor picked up the instrument and came to the young elf. "Silver… it is giving it a clearer sound..." Noticing the look in Elenluin's eyes, he added "try it, I can tell that you play yourself, let me hear what you can…"

Elenluin did not hesitate; he took the instrument carefully from the bard's hands and started to try, for the mechanics that were there where holes should be felt strange to his fingers. The sound was marvellous, and he got lost in his own melody, his heart singing his sadness as he played, forgetting where he was, who he was playing for, just thinking on what had happened that day, all the grief, all the sorrow. A song for his fallen friends and above all for Ilarmen, who had been good to him... When he laid the melody to rest and slowly removed the instrument from his lips, Maglor was watching him pensively and Elenluin wondered if he really saw flames in the bard's grey eyes or it was just the reflection of the fire.

"I'm sorry my lord" he said a bit shy, "I did not intend to play so long, I hope I did not offend you."

"No, Elenluin of Hithlum, it seems like you are a man of many talents. Leave me now, I need to think and you and I both should rest, but I do insist on thanking you, for the battle won, but even more for the song you played. I will not call you a boy again, though you are still very young to me, for no boy can do the things you did today, not in battle and not in music."

Elenluin didn't know what to say… how could he respond to such a compliment? "I thank you my lord, your opinion means a lot to me."

"Come back tomorrow then, if all goes well, we can talk, and play and listen, and forget the sorrows of the day" Maglor spoke

"I will, I will if the Valar grant us another day."

As Elenluin left the tent and went back to his own, Maglor sat silently on his bench. He hardly even noticed that Celebrimbor entered the tent. "So uncle, did you like my gift? Half the encampment paused and listened to that haunting melody" he said with a smile.

Slowly looking up, Maglor spoke: "it was not me who played, but that young boy you just saw leaving, the same that fought like a wolf today, Herunim's son."


	10. Chapter 10: End of an age

As the days came and went, the fighting continued, day, night, it did not make a difference, they seemed to be continuously in the field, or at the counselling table, to determine the strategies for the next moves. Elenluin hardly ever saw his brother, except at the strategic meetings in the morning. He saw the twins Elrond and Elros getting increasingly close to Ereinion, while he felt estranged from him, he did not know why, but it seemed that their friendship was changing and he did not really mind.

He noticed that he preferred to be alone when he could, and whenever he wanted company, he spent his free time with Maglor. Their interests were surprisingly similar for two people so different in age, as were their views on the world. They spent hours discussing how a song should sound, how music had evolved and why this or that instrument was better used in this case. The song Elenluin had played that first night was written down and reworked by both of them, to such extent that they could not even say if it was one or the other that had written it. Sometimes Maedhros would visit as well. The first time Maglor sang their song for him, Elenluin saw tears appearing in the elder brother's eyes and he brusquely ran out of the tent. After that, they did not use the text anymore, but kept on playing the song. Thus it was the melody that spread through the armies, something they would hear soldiers sing with their own words in the evening, sitting by the fire, when mourning for their lost friends.

Often the bard's cousin Celebrimbor visited, discussing adaptations at the flute's mechanics or other items he created and they became friends, respecting each other's knowledge and interests. So Elenluin learned from them, about music and warfare, ancient tactics, history and craftsmanship. But above all he learned that these two famous brothers were just elves, who liked to laugh and talk and sing in the evening. On top, there was some unspoken shared grief between them, as the sons of Feanor missed their foster sons whom they felt lost to Gil-Galad while Elenluin felt like losing his brother to the twins.

Time passed and as they progressed from Anfauglith to Angband, hope disappeared that victory would be swift. By now they were all tired beyond measure. Taking the passage of the Sirion had cost them a full forty years and to Elenluin it seemed like he had left some part of himself behind, here in the plains of Anfauglith. What remained was a man who was hardened by battle and loss, who would fight and command even without thinking, seeing the gaps in the enemy's stances almost as easy as reading a book, but never ever getting the taste of a real victory.

They had come, the hosts of the West, and never in his life would he forget that day. But with them had come Finarfin, who subsequently took over command of the Noldor. Somehow it didn't feel right, to have someone in charge whose heart was not in Middle Earth. However when Elenluin spoke of these kind of things, Gil-Galad would remind him of how great a warrior and strategist Finarfin was and stop listening.

Thus he struggled. For during the day, he was part of the war council, where somehow, and to his own surprise, his opinion was now listened to and honoured They even had asked him to train some of the younger ones, Elrond and Elros being the first to join his growing group of apprentices. But during the long fighting nights, he wondered how this war would end and he thought that even in victory, the consequences might be worse than anyone would want. Many a morning, after another nightly fight, he talked with Maglor on these matters, his friend being the only one to whom he dared to voice his opinions.

Fighting this battle in his homeland as well did not help, taking back the strongholds that had been lost to them in Nirnaeth was something that needed to be done, but caused him much pain in seeing the utter destruction and corruption that the Orc troops had brought in the last hundred years.

The battles of the Maiar happened far from their own struggles with the Orc troops, but each time they planned their attacks, they came to council, to warn them and to help them set up a safe haven for all where they could find a refuge from the powers that roared above them. Each of their attacks caused hurt to the land. By the force of their fight, rivers were rerouted, mountains destroyed, wounds created deep across the fields. It hurt Elenluin each time it happened, although it helped them forward.

Then came the day, the day that changed the world. Afterwards, he could not describe clearly how it went. Confusion was everywhere, as the full force of the hosts of the West stormed Angband.

None of them was there when the mighty clashed, but in later years, he would still shudder at the memory of what he saw from a distance, the heat, the flames, the fear above all when they saw the dragons coming out. At that point, they thought all lost, until Earendil came. The ship and the eagles, they had saved them all that day, Ancalagon the black had fallen, and in his fall destroyed the world as they knew it.

Confusion was everywhere in the days that followed. First he heard from Gil-Galad that Eonwe had put Elrond and Elros to the choice: which fate would they abide, that of man or of elves. And although this did not concern him personally, in the past almost fifty years, he had gotten to know both well and it was just impossible not to like them.

And then there was that other thing, the one that worried him even more. After the victory Maglor had grown more and more quiet, and seemed to avoid him. He was barely interested when Elenluin passed by, saying he had things to discuss with his brother alone. Whiter it was because of the fear for the judgment of the Maiar, or something else, Elenluin could not tell. The bard noticeably got more visits from his brother, and soon enough withdrew from all contact with any besides Maedhros.

He had gone to the tent without any expectations. He had just wanted to talk, had wanted to hear what was wrong from his friend rather than just guessing what was behind this uncomfortable feeling that had been growing the last days.

When he entered, he heard the end of what must have been a fight between the two Feanorians.

_"but less evil shall we do in the breaking!" _Maglor shouted, and as Elenluin looked at the two men staring at each other he could feel the tension in the small room. The bard turned around and saw him standing there. His clear grey eyes seemed to throw flames at the unwelcome visitor_. _

"Elenluin, get out of here! This is no business for elflings. Get your stuff and be gone, I do not want you in here." With an angry gesture, Maglor pointed him to a bundle, where indeed all the things he had left in this tent through the years had been put.

He flinched from the look in the fiery eyes of both brothers in front of him and he remained silent. He took the pack, turned around and walked out of that tent, utterly confused and alone.

Surprised and hurt, he withdrew to his own quarters and all he could wonder about those days and nights that followed was why this victory tasted so much like defeat.

Some days later when the Feanorians decided to take the Silmarils, things changed again.

They betrayed him. They betrayed them all. How could they? Another kinslaying, so close to their victory? Such a useless act. He did not understand, could not understand what had driven them. He had thought he knew them better than that, they had fought with them, not against them. Had they never really been as close as he had hoped them to be? Had they never considered him a friend? He would always wonder.

Once, only once more he sung Fingon's lament for his lost friend, after that, he promised himself, never, ever after would he talk about these events and what they did to him. Never.


	11. Chapter 11: Lost

The war had ended, all was well, so why didn't he feel happy? Ereinion Gil-Galad was sitting in his tent, head in his hands. He felt tired, more tired than he had felt in all his long life. So many choices, so many changes ahead and no real idea of what the future will look like.

Elrond and Elros had made their choice, much to his grief, for he had grown fond of the twins and he admitted that he feared to see Elros age and diminish, lost to the fate of the second born.

The Feanorians had chosen in their way, choosing death over life, putting an oath above sense, forgiveness, and love.

However, the choice that was now before him was his and his alone. Would he go to the lands of Aman, that he had never seen in his life, but where his ancestors lived, or would he stay here and lead the elves in exile. He needed to talk to someone. He would not bother Elrond, who was still so sad, so incredibly sad that he could not possibly do anything that would worsen his grief. Cirdan was occupied, and anyway, he knew that the shipwright had gotten a similar choice, so no, he could not go to him. He thought about Elenluin, he would be more neutral and he was not caught up in the politics that had been playing lately. Somehow the man had kept himself out of any discussion beside the military tactics. Yes that might be a good idea. It was only, he had not seen him around lately. Actually, he started wondering when exactly the commander had been seen by anyone the last time.

Worried he realized that it was at the judgement of Eonwe after the Feanoreans betrayed them, now already four days ago. Where had he gone?

* * *

The sea, the sea, it was calling to him, although he did not know why. Waves were breaking on the rocks, the water wild and unpredictable after the change in the landscape that the breaking of Angband had brought. He would stand there, looking far over the water, unseeing, until tears were in his eyes from the wind, the salt and the sand. His mind was roaring, tumbling back and forth, not knowing where to direct his next actions, utterly confused. Everything he had known and cared for seemed gone. His family long lost, his one and only true friend betrayed them, and the one he had thought of as a brother did not seem to care anymore, the land of his youth forever gone.

He had seen what must have been Maglor's tracks, coming here. Deliberately he had chosen another path, far away from where his friend had decided to go. He knew not what had become of the bard, and was not ready to find out.

Still, when his mind reeled and he would almost throw himself into the sea to stop the ever-going storm inside, he thought about the music that he had heard and shared during the long evenings in this long war and he knew that he could not let it be forgotten. Someone would have to keep its memory alive, so that Maglor would not be remembered only as the Traitor but as well as the greatest bard that ever lived, as he deserved, he owed that to him.

His days were spent there at the sea, while during the nights he watched the sky, finding comfort in Menelmacar, the one star sign he had always considered to be his protector and in the new star that he recognized as Earendil, traveling with Vingilot in the skies.

* * *

After another day without a sign of Elenluin, Gil-Galad started to get worried. From what he initially had heard from Elenluin's second in command, the elf had left right after the turbulent events of the betrayal of the Feanorians. He had not given any explanation, only told that he would be out for a few days and that he left command with him. As far as they knew, he had not taken any supplies with him, so they had assumed that he would have returned after a day or two. Now almost eight days had passed without anyone knowing anything about him and they wondered where he had gone.

He did not know where to start searching, so he started sending some of his servants out to discretely ask if anyone had seen General Elenluin lately, if they maybe had seen him passing by.

When they came back, it became clear that the blue star had left in utter silence, he had passed indeed out of the camp, in direction of the coast line, without telling anyone what his plans were. As people were used of him being on some errand or another, wandering around, no one had taken real notice.

Gil Galad knew that if he really had wanted to hide his tracks, there was no chance they would be able to retrieve them. No ranger was so good as to be able to follow Elenluin when he didn't want to be followed. So waiting was the only thing he could do, aside from calling a search party, which he did not want to start before he was absolutely sure that there was no other option. Besides, Cirdan did not ask questions and Ereinion suspected that he might know more than the others but would not tell.

His own mind was clear now, he would stay. It seemed too early for him to go to Aman and his people needed him here, more than anywhere else. He would lead them to a safe haven, start over again, build peace and maintain order, he had decided.

Almost ten days had passed, when they saw Elenluin riding into the encampment again. Silently, he entered his tent, greeting the guards as if he had not been gone at all. He requested presence of his second, let himself be updated of whatever passed in his absence and signed all the necessary orders and decisions that were waiting for him. He did not speak to anyone of where he had been or what he had been doing, it was as if it never happened.

Word had reached Gil-Galad soon enough that Elenluin was back in camp and he had expected at least a message, something of an explanation for his absence. He became more and more impatient during the day, being overly sharp to anyone who requested anything of him, to a point where Cirdan sent the petitioners out and turned to his foster son. "What is wrong with you Ereinion?" The shipwright looked at him, wisdom in his eyes "My boy, if you want to know what happened to Elenluin, go and talk to him, don't stay here and fret. But don't expect him to tell you, because I don't think he is ready."

"You know what he has been doing don't you? He told you." He felt hurt, although he knew he had no reason to, for if he was honest with himself, they had lost track of each other in these past years.

"Ereinion, he did not tell me, but yes I have an idea where he has been. I think he needed some time alone, as for the reasons, he will tell you at the right time."

That evening, Gil-Galad could not restrain himself anymore. He walked to that tent and made the guards announce him. When he entered, he saw Elenluin sitting at his working table, looking calmly up to his King.

He started at the look in those eyes. How could a mere ten days make so much difference? The playful dancing flames he used to see there seemed to have disappeared and had been replaced by something that only seemed to reflect the outer world.

"My Lord, to what do I honour you visit"

Gil-Galad frowned, if this was how the game was going to be played... "Commander, I came to request your report on your absence. I expected a message or notification, one cannot just disappear." He knew the moment he spoke that it was the wrong thing to say. It was something a king would ask from his general, not the way a brother would talk to a brother.

Elenluin straightened his back, "My lord, I believe I left behind a message that I would be gone for a while, all was arranged, Inglorion was well aware of what needed to happen and I do not believe any disturbance to your operation has been noticed. Where I went is not important, rest assured it was a personal matter."

The king sighed " I did not come to fight, Elenluin, I will accept your explanation and expect you tomorrow at my council table, for during your absence decisions have been made and it is time to make them public."

"What have you decided, my lord?"

"I will stay."

"Then I will join you."


	12. Chapter 12 - Pain

**Second Age**

_**II 1700**_

Late in the evening, a day or two after Gil-Galad discovered the state of his wounds, Elenluin was sitting on his bedside. Although it had improved after Ereinion's initial intervention, the pain in his back was now excruciating once more. Still it was nothing compared to the inner turmoil he was experiencing.

He had seen the sun going down over the misty waters. It was always a bad time of the year when the autumn leaves were on the trees, with their golden and red colour reminding him of the garden he once owned.

His thoughts kept on going back to those days after the fall of Eregion, days filled with pain and darkness. The pain had gone on and on and on, and they would not stop asking. Never letting him sleep, never letting him at peace. All the time they had made sure he didn't pass out, but just gave him enough breathing room to keep him aware of all that was happening – every single sensation.

He remembered how he had only hoped that if he held on and did not betray anything, he could gain time and that Elianna and the others might be able to live. _If_ they had escaped the first attack. He never had any doubt on his own faith. He knew that he would not survive long, and he hoped for a quick release of this world filled with eternal pain.

Only seven days the suffering lasted they told him afterwards, but to him, it was as if a whole lifetime had passed and ever since his world was split between before and after. He was not so sure now if he was grateful of being rescued. It might have been better if Elrond's troops had never found him.

Why would he live now? All friends that he had once had were gone.

Ereinion, Maglor, Celebrimbor, in one way or another, they had all betrayed him and left him behind. Eäraumo, his little boy, he... he could not bear finishing the thought. Elianna, he could talk about her to some people, 'Rau remained unspoken of, it hurt too much even to think of him…

In his hands he was holding a slim dagger, silver and black, with stars covering the hilt. One he made what seemed ages ago, although it probably was no older than five years. How easy it would be to stop the pain, one simple move and it would all be over, no more sorrow, no more hurting, no more thinking…

His hands grasped the dagger tighter, one over the hilt, the other over the blade; as if one wanted to stop the other from acting and the blade cut his palm deeply. He tightened his grip, welcoming the physical sensation that not even half reflected the mental pain he was in, and started crying.

* * *

Gil-Galad was on his way back to his quarters from the evening's banquet that had been organized to celebrate the arrival of Elrond. He had reached Lindon unexpectedly that day and Gil Galad had not asked why yet. He had felt too tired to talk this evening, and he was sure that Elrond would tell him at the right time- besides, if it would have been anything urgent, he would have heard it by now. Most likely his own messengers had intercepted the master of the valley on one of his journeys.

He had left the banquet earlier than normal. He did not seem to be able to focus on the small talk and wanted to be alone. When passing Elenluin's apartment, he impulsively decided to see how his brother was doing. He knew Gwillion was still at the hall and Elenluin would be probably asleep, but perhaps in pursuit of a quiet moment for himself he felt bound to enter. As he silently went into the bedroom, he saw the smith sitting at the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped and shaking with sobs.

Without a word, he went to sit next to Elenluin, his head spinning as he could not remember if he ever saw him cry after their childhood. However, it was only when he saw blood trickling through Elenluin's cramped fingers, that he finally understood his brother's despair. He put his arm around his shoulder and held him tight. Slowly, very slowly, he started to unfold the hands, opening his grip finger by finger, while softly pushing his handkerchief against the bleeding deep cut. All the time, he did not speak, nor did he loosen his arm around his brother's shoulders.

It might have been only moments, it might have been hours, but after he had removed the dagger that the smith was holding, and thrown it onto the bed, the crying became more and more intense. It was as if the grief that had built up for years finally found its way out. "It hurts so much" Elenluin whispered in a hoarse voice.

"I know brother, I know it does… This time you are not alone, I will not let you down once more, together we will get through this, I will stay with you – I promise. I am sure we will find a way out – remember all those who still love you, remember us in these dark hours… and think about what Maglor's music once meant to all of us, somehow, someday it will hurt less, I promise… let me take care of you little one, this time it is my turn to help you…"

Ereinion did not know how long it took, but in the end, Elenluin fell asleep, exhausted and helped by some sedating medicine he had finally managed to give to him. Quietly he let his brother down on the bed, and realised how drained he felt now. One more task remained and as he walked over to Elrond's quarters, he wondered how the healer would react.

It turned out that Elrond did not ask many questions, he just joined him to Elenluin's apartments carrying his instruments, took one long look at the cuts in the hand and quietly started to work. The sleeping medicines did what they had to do, and he swiftly completed his painless stitching, before bandaging the hand tightly.

After finishing, they left Elenluin still unconscious on his bed, and went to the king's study. There, Gil-Galad poured out a glass of liquor for both of them, and sat down in one of the comfortable sofas, staring into his glass absentmindedly. Not used to his foster father being so pensive, Elrond finally broke the silence: "It will heal, just a couple of weeks, and he will be as good as new, although the cut was very deep, it was clean and should mend easily if he rests his hand properly. Do you know how it happened?"

"How's life in Rivendell? Any news of that girl you had an eye on last time I visited?" Gil-Galad asked, abruptly changing subject.

"Great", a smile appeared on Elrond's face, "I was only planning to tell you tomorrow, but since you ask, I wonder if I should ask her to marry me, though I don't know how." here he took a deep breath, "and, If I do, as you have always been the closest to a father I ever had, I would like you to witness for me"

A sad smile crossed Gil-Galad's face, but he did not answer.

The tears gleaming in his eyes did not go unnoticed to Elrond, who sat down next to him. "What is it? What troubles you, will you not tell me so I might be able to help? I thought you would be happy…"  
"I am Elrond, I am happy for you, although it seems a bit early don't you think? You only just know each other and she is still so very young" with a sigh Gil-Galad put his glass down, closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat and said almost at a whisper "Give it some time my son, until the war is over and you both are sure…" he paused a bit before he hesitantly continued: "Oh, I admit that's not all, the last time I was asked to do that for someone I told him I was too busy… and I wonder how things would have turned out if I had not. What if I had been there and mended things with him, would he have trusted me enough to send his family to Lindon? Would his wife have felt comfortable enough to go and take their young boy with her? Would they still live and would my brother still be whole? I do not know, but I will always ask myself what I could have done differently."

Elrond did not speak; he did not need to guess about whom they were talking and he could not deny the truth in Ereinion's words.

"Do you remember, Elrond, how Elenluin was before the end of the War of Wrath? You were just a boy, but you might still…"

"I do, I was young and felt frightened of him then, he would always be so stern and solemn when he trained us in swordsmanship. I do not think I ever saw him laugh in those years. But whenever I visited Maglor and Maedhros he used to be there and would behave like a different person. When he was talking music you could see the fires blazing in his eyes and he could passionately discuss with Maglor for hours."

"Aye, he used to be like that, and I did see him laugh, many times, though hardly ever in public. Did you know he wrote a lot of music back then? He would fight all night, and still play in the morning, alone or with Maglor." The king sighed once more "They were so close, those two… Sometimes, I think that is where it started, the war changed us all, made us harder and hurt us deeper than we would like to admit. The betrayal of Maglor shook his confidence in life, and changed him for good. The fires you describe so rightly were turned inwards, covered by thick shields, hidden far inside. And I was too young to understand and too blind to see. All that happened afterwards, started there. And I admit I had a big part in it, not paying any attention, focusing elsewhere, where my attention was as well needed."

Elrond looked pensive "There are more recent scars in his soul. I believe the things he has been through in that Orc cave are to blame for his current pains. I have seen it, I have heard them talk. They have tortured him, pained him and made him believe all was lost, before I could free him. I would never have believed anyone could have survived those circumstances. But he did, somehow he must have found the strength to hold on. He is stronger than we know."


	13. Chapter 13: To get through the night

Elenluin woke up, feeling still very tired. He knew he had slept the unnatural sleep of a calming agent, and when moving he realised his hand was bandaged. He remembered now. He felt ashamed that someone had seen him in this state, and could only hope that Ereinion kept what had happened to himself.

He was tired and had been so for a long time now. The last years he had kept going, on and on, pushing himself forward ever since he recovered after Eregion fell. He rode across the country, relentlessly fighting Annatar's patrols. When he was in Lindon, he spent his days counselling the King, the nights training his sword skills in his own apartments or on the training ground. He found new ways to exercise, going physically beyond even whatever he had done for hundreds of years before. It kept him from thinking, kept his mind blank even when there was nothing to do.

He could not count the times he had stepped out of his room or tent, straightened his shoulders and put on his thickest mask. How often had he run to a lonely corner high in the towers of the palace, unknown even to his brother, to be alone and cry? How often on patrol did he stay in his tent in the evening, feeling so ultimately miserable, feeling so alone, just wanting to disappear? And all the time, deep inside, though he did everything to hide the pain, he wished someone would ask how he was doing. He felt the need to be strong, though sometimes the sadness was so great he thought it would burn a hole in his stomach. When Ereinion asked him questions, he could not stop himself answering that all was fine, brushing all care aside and hoping he would not probe further. He hated himself for saying so when he knew it was not true. Minutes after, he would hate his brother even more for not asking one question more, for not probing further and not noticing the pain in his eyes, even though he realised he gave him absolutely no chance to get any nearer. Physical pain was so much easier to understand.

He had known darkness before, after Maglor left. He had gotten himself things to do at that time, never taking a pause, much like he had done now. After some time, it had passed and he had discovered new goals and things to look forward to. He had found the smithy and a new trade, creating rather than destroying things. He had been still young and healthy then, and though the war had scarred him, he had hope and belief that one day the light would return. But what made things most different, was that he had had Celebrimbor, whom he had trusted enough to talk about the grief of losing his best friend.

Until some days ago- this time he had felt like eternal night had fallen, and all the stars were dimmed, no light, no hope.

He had started to neglect the care of his wounds very soon after he had arrived in Lindon. The pain had always been there, vaguely in the background. Every day, every night his back was dimly aching. It was not so bad that he had to go for a healer, just simply always there. Only now he realised how it had worn him out, now that he finally had gotten some relief of the pain. And his brother was back with him, that he told himself as well. He knew in his mind that he was not alone, that there were plenty who would care, but his heart felt not ready, not ready to let anyone close to him. Losing them again would be the end of him. So he lay awake in his bed, hiding for the sun that started to shine outside.

* * *

Gil-Galad entered the rooms of the smith. As he came into the apartments, he had briefly spoken to Gwillion, who had told him that his master had had a quiet night.

Going into the bedroom, he found Elenluin lying wide awake, staring out of the window to the sea. He sat himself on the bed and softly started talking.

"Tell me, little one, what you are thinking now."

"I do not know. There are so many things."

"Start, start somewhere, tell me about what bothers you. Tell me, how did we get so far apart? When did it start? There were times when I only needed half a word and I would understand what you meant. Now I feel like I have to get to know you all over again." The king paused a moment, then realised that through the conversations he had had with Cirdan, he had recalled a half-forgotten memory "tell me about the times when you went away after the War of Wrath. You know, I was worried then, thinking you had disappeared as so many others. Cirdan kept telling me that you had your reasons and I was not to fret, you would come back. And I felt so angry with you, for I thought you had told him what you had not chosen to share with me, so angry that I effectively messed up every audience I had those days. Only much later I realised that Cirdan didn't know either, he just had looked better and understood."

Elenluin turned around, surprised, "I did not know you cared. I went to the sea, watching the stars, thinking about what Maglor had done. I do not know how to describe how I felt then, Gil-Galad. He was so near, and then suddenly he betrayed us. I understand better now than I did then, how the oath consumed them, how they suffered. Still I think he could have decided differently."

Gil-Galad thoughtfully looked at the smith. "I do not know, I always considered the Feanorians as serving a faith far beyond their own. Maedhros and my father were like brothers, still he could never convince him of stopping his quest."

"Celebrimbor kept on saying the same to me. Maybe you were both right, still, it did not change how I experienced it."

The high king nodded and looked around him "I remember how you chose these rooms, first thing when you arrived after the Great War. What is it why you like this place so much? The sound of the sea? Did you not miss it in Eregion?"

"It is, the sea has ever been calming to me, although I understand why it calls to others. For me it always has been soothing. I did miss it, but Elianna became restless when near the coast, so we never really considered moving out of Hollin."

"How was she, Elenluin? I only met her once, and she did not say much."

Elenluin turned away again, watching the waves. Ereinion almost thought he had asked one question too much, for it remained silent for a long time.

"She was… she…. She was kind, my friend, loving, caring. She brought sunshine to my heart, taught me that there were things beyond destruction and battle. She was not quiet at all, telling me off when I was in a gloomy mood, speaking up against Celebrimbor even sometimes, when he kept me too long in his councils." A shadow of a smile came and went over his still face. "I loved her, Ereinion, more than anything in the world." Correcting himself he added, so quietly that Gil-Galad hardly could hear it "not anything, 'Rau, my little thunderstorm, he was so…"

Gil-Galad moved nearer and pulled him into a gentle embrace. "Tell me about him, brother, tell me so he will not be forgotten. Weep, my brother, and finally allow yourself to mourn for them, I will stay with you, I promise.

And so the days and nights passed in Lindon, and by the time the Lord and Lady of Lorien arrived, Elenluin had taken his place again in the war assembly, where he had been so many years ago at the war of Wrath.

Ereinion knew that healing was still far off, but at least he felt that the smith started to trust him again, coming to him when he wanted to talk, sharing what was bothering him. For now, it had to be enough, simply to go on.

* * *

One evening, Elenluin's mind felt peaceful for the first time in a long while. And as he was sitting on his balcony, he thought of something. From the bottom of the chest that contained his armour of the War of Wrath, now long surpassed in quality and strength by some of his later works and something he only kept as a memory of a time long gone, he took a heavy bundle.

He had never opened it. In all those years, he had not even looked what was inside. He knew there was more in there than just his score of Fingon's lament, judging the weight of the package, but he had not wanted to see it. He had not even told Celebrimbor he had received it and had left it here in his room in Lindon while he went for Eregion. He had never dared to look at what Maglor had given him, not even after all those years. But today he wanted to see, wanted to know. And as he did, he found his suspicions confirmed, for in the opened cloth, he discovered a bundle of music scores. Amongst them their lament, but as well pages and pages with fragments of music. Some were well known songs, others he knew he had never seen before and underneath it all was a small wooden case that when laid open showed a silver flute, blackened by age.

But one sentence, scribbled in haste on the top of the pages, made him smile and hope again.

_Forgive me little one, and may you be happy far from our doom. Your friend for always, Kanafinwe Makalaure Feanorion_


	14. II: Fall of a star -CH14 - Last Alliance

**II: Fall of a Star**

Here begins the second part of the tales of Elenluin of Eregion, on a battle won, another fruitless victory.

* * *

**CH 14: The Last Alliance**

**II 3441**

_'I remember well the splendour of their banners,' he said. 'It recalled to me the glory of the Elder Days and the hosts of Beleriand, so many great princes and captains were assembled. And yet not so many, nor so fair, as when Thangorodrim was broken, and the Elves deemed that evil was ended for ever, and it was not so.' Elrond – Council of Elrond_

Elenluin was standing in the high king's tent. They had gone through tomorrow's strategy over and over again, and although they knew there was not much more that could be talked, they lingered. "They" were the close group that had formed around Gil-Galad over the years: Elrond, Celeborn, Cirdan and he, his council of war, his advisors, his family.

He could not help thinking that Ereinion looked weary, more so than ever before. The light that usually shone in his eyes seemed dimmed and clouded. It was the dust, the heat, the everlasting attacks, he thought. But as he did, he knew that it was not all. Only days ago his brother still seemed to have more hope. Sure, his words were the same as they were then, on how they needed one last stance, one last attack, and they had been planning for it for weeks, no years. But something had changed in how he acted recently, how he behaved. Subtly, his gaze lingered longer on each of their faces than usual, he observed as he had never done before. He seemed to listen even more carefully to anything they said and he had become more inwardly focussed. The smith supposed that the others had noticed it too, but he had not dared to voice his thoughts to any other.

The group disbanded late that evening, leaving for their own tents to try and rest a little while they were being consumed by the tension of the battle that awaited them only hours later. As all left the High King's tent, Elrond stayed behind a little, still talking with the king about where his place would be as Ereinion's herald. Elenluin was aware that the greatest of all forces was as ready as it could be. A greater force than any army they had seen since the War of Wrath. Once again they had been able to join all free people – for once and for all they wanted to extinguish evil from this world. Splendid as the army was, it was merely a shadow from how he remembered those days when the first age ended, when the Valar themselves had come. Still he did not regret that they were on their own this time, no one wanted repetition of what had happened at the end of that war.

He arrived at his own tent soon enough and took his old and worn star-covered book out of his small case with personal possessions. He had carried only what was strictly necessary to war, making an exception for his flute, but this he had brought. He sat himself down at the edge of his bed and started to write with a sigh. It had been a while since he had filled his notebook with another letter, but an update was needed. Although he knew there was no chance anyone would ever read it when he would fall in the morning; it eased his mind to write down a sort of goodbye to his brother. It took him a while to find the right words and he had hardly finished when a messenger came in, telling him that the high king would like to speak to him. It was now almost midnight and a solemn feeling came over him, for he wondered what his brother wanted to talk about that had not been discussed before.

As he came nearer to the tent, he saw Cirdan leave, head bowed low and fighting against the everlasting wind, returning to his own quarters.

"Aranya, my king, I'm here."

Gil-Galad was sitting on a small bench, leaning his elbows on his knees, as if he was very tired. The fire was burning clearly in this tent, for although dust and heat were everywhere during the day, the nights were cold here in the plains. It reminded him of the endless battles they had fought before Anfauglith.

Ereinion looked up when Elenluin entered, and the intense look in his clear grey eyes surprised the smith. "Brother…" the King's voice sounded a bit hoarse, as if he tried to contain a range of emotions that would break him if they were spoken.

Elenluin felt the confusion of the other as he approached and said "Shh, don't speak, let us just be content to sit here together as we were used to when we were young." He took his brother's trembling hands in his for a moment as he spoke and sat himself down on the floor, leaning his head against Ereinion's knees.

Gil-Galad nodded weakly and kept silent for a while. Somehow the nearness of the smith seemed to help him, calmed him down in the end. Hesitantly he started speaking again: "I did not intend to tell anyone, but … you are the last I will see tonight… Elenluin, aside from Cirdan and Elrond no one should know… Forgive me that you were the last, I had to make other arrangements first brother… I have left you waiting too often didn't I …. I don't know what kind of brother I was to you… " he did not seem to get the words out, paused a moment and then suddenly asked "Elenluin, do you know what happened to the three?"

Elenluin did not know where the conversation was going but he got increasingly worried. Gil-Galad, the ever-confident one, who always knew what to do and say, seemed to be different tonight.

"We have talked this before, as long as I live, I will never forget how they feel when they touch the spirit. Yes, even if I did not want it, I do know where they were and who owned them." The smith smiled sadly.

"My brother. I remember well that you did not want to get involved in these matters, did not want to lay eyes on those objects ever again, but now times are changing."

"You know that I have always refused to have anything to do with them, Ereinion. I am no sage lord, nor am I strong or very smart."

"You misjudge yourself; you might well be the most intelligent and wise in refusing." Gil-Galad answered, slightly more composed. "But nevertheless, you do need to know that I chose to send them elsewhere. Protect their bearers Elenluin, for I am sure that you will find out who they are – if you know it not already. Help them keep the land, do not give up, even if I will not be there anymore after tomorrow." Those last words came out as merely a whisper, but their weight was lead.

Elenluin was not sure if he had understood them right. He studied his brother's face silently for a while, waiting for a sign of reassurance. When it didn't come, when Ereinion just looked at him with sadness and acceptance, he knew he had not missed their meaning.

So that was why he had been asked to come, why Ereinion was acting so different than before. It might be that some believed that the greatest were granted a feeling of premonition of their death, but never had he considered his brother as one of them. He looked up in the King's eyes, although he felt that emotions were rising and clouding his own mind and nodded "I will take care of those who bear them, for I know they are the ones close to your heart." An oath sworn in the name of Eru could not have been more binding to him in that very instant.

Tears started streaking Gil-Galad's cheeks, and Elenluin rose and got on the bench next to him as he softly spoke "You are the best brother I could have ever hoped for, never doubt that. I will stay here with you, until the morning comes. Do not be afraid. Through darkness you have carried me more than once before, this time it is my turn. Unless you want me to go and be alone, I will stay"

"Stay toronya..." Gil-Galad rested his weary head on his little brother's shoulder and Elenluin, the usually so quiet one, started talking softly about times now long gone by, about friends long lost and lands long forgotten. Their shared memories went back to the days when they had both been lost children at the island of Balar, playing in Cirdan's care. They both laughed and they cried as they jumped from age to age in those few stolen hours. They found redemption and relieve in doing so and talked until the sun nearly came up and it was time to take their places at the head of their fabulous army. The brothers said farewell in that tent, sharing one last embrace.

Before Elenluin went to his own wing, he took one more glance behind him. Thus he saw how Gil-Galad, the High King of the Noldor in exile stepped out to take his place at the head of his troops. The lord's eyes were gleaming with pride and defiance, holding Aeglos high in the air. All fear and uncertainty were gone, only a magnificent king remaining, the shining star of his people. And Elenluin left, a lump in his throat for he feared the day that started.


	15. Chapter 15 - Another fruitless victory

The story of that battle has been told countless times, and minstrels sing songs on how Elendil and Gil-Galad fell while defeating evil, and how Isildur cut the ring from the enemy's finger, but kept it against advice of Elrond and Cirdan who were there at the very end.

Elenluin – he had kept his wing, forgetting all but the battle, focused on doing all he could to support the ones ahead. Holding his position, utterly concentrated on the part he and his men had to play that day. When things drew to an end and the enemy was fleeting, he realised that the battle was won. He felt exhausted as he never had felt before, his side and left arm were bleeding from different superficial wounds and all his muscles were stiff and hurting. But he felt as if justice finally had had its way – for all those that were murdered in Eregion, here in these dusty plains.

As he slowly went back to the encampment, clasping the hands of some of his men, congratulating them with their victory, he started to hear the whispers here and there. "The kings are dead, they say they both fell" and darkness returned, for in his heart he knew that the rumour would be true.

When he reached the pavilion of the High King, still dirty and full of blood from the battlefield, he saw the flags hanging low and wanted to enter. The guards however, standing still in front of it, stopped him going in. "Sir, we have orders of the lord Elrond that no one is to enter"

His eyes were fire in that moment and he put his hand on the hilt of his sword. "You will let me in – even if you have to drag Elrond out here to give you permission."

The guards hesitated for the instructions had been clear, but one of them, who a long time ago had served him patrolling Eriador, took pity. He stepped quietly into the tent, whispering to the one inside and when coming out, he nodded and let Elenluin enter.

He did not know what to expect, his mind blank. All he saw when he entered was a charred body on the bed. Nothing like the king he had served, nothing like the one he had called brother, only Aeglos' blackened spear tip lying on the corpse's breast marking it as the remnants of Gil-Galad. The smell of burnt flesh was terrible and he felt how nausea rose from his stomach to his throat. Elrond looked up from where he was sitting next to the bed, but before he could say anything, Elenluin had turned around, storming out without a word. He unseeingly went further and further through the camp, ignoring those that called after him. He started to run when he had left the main enclosure while tears were streaming from his eyes. He kept running until he reached the horse sheds. There he hid, far from everyone, to weep for his fallen brother.

Hours later, Cirdan came to look for him. As he arrived he found Elenluin staring at the stars above, his fingers aimlessly playing with a small silver locket. The tears had left marks on his still dirty face and his armour and mantle were dark with blood from his untended wounds. As the shipwright looked into the smith's red eyes, he saw exhaustion and grief beyond measure, but he as well thought that it had been a long time since he had seen Elenluin look more at peace.

Cirdan reached out, his own hand trembling, and as Elenluin met his grip, pulled him closer into an embrace that lasted for a long time. They both knew what the other had lost, son, brother. Without having exchanged a word they walked back to the camp. Duties did not wait; a feast was going on tonight. And although there were little who had not lost someone they had to join the troops celebrating the living and their hard-fought victory.

* * *

Gildor Inglorion was relaxing amongst his men. Finally they had triumphed after ten long years, and even if the losses had been heavy, tonight they would celebrate. Still they wondered where their leaders were as even though festivities had started already hours ago, the head table on the temporary dais was still half-empty. The troops cheered when they finally saw Cirdan approach with Elenluin, Celeborn and Thranduil, all looking tired, but smiling encouragingly at the men, congratulating them with the defeat of the enemy. The commanders of the alliance sat themselves down and he spotted Celeborn talking to Glorfindel, while Elendur and his chiefs were looking a little forlorn at the golden captain's other side. Elrond and Isildur were nowhere to be seen though, and none doubted where they were, their absence a visible reminder on what had been the cost of their victory.

Songs started to be sung before long, airs of joy at first, of victory. But as the evening progressed and they all drank more, they became songs of loss, songs of grief. Not one sitting here had not lost someone dear to them and the soldiers were mourning. When a part of the seventh cohort started to sing the laments of the wars of Beleriand, he saw how some at the high table bowed their heads. Thranduil stood up and left with a bow to the men, his face carefully unmoved but his eyes spoke differently. Gildor did not doubt that he was going to find a quieter place amongst his own folk, of whom not so many had joined them tonight. The Silvan elves had suffered exceptionally hard in this war, very few would return to the green woods of the North.

When he heard the men from his own troop start singing of the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, Gildor looked up. And as he did so, he found that Elenluin was hiding his face in his hands. Cirdan was talking to the dark haired elf in quiet words, an arm around his shoulders. And Gildor swallowed hard. He was shaken. Never in all the long years that he had served the Blue Star had he seen him shed a tear. Not even once, not after losing countless comrades in the wars that had swept the lands, not after the kinslaying at the end of the War of Wrath, which he knew had hurt him deeply, not even after the fall of Eregion, never. He suspected that the man had grieved before, but the self-control of Gil-Galad's war leader was legendary and no one had ever witnessed his tears. To see his commander in this state was not something he was prepared for. He looked around him as the singing haltingly came to an end, for more than one had noticed what was going on at the dais. A silence almost fell, but for Celeborn. It was the silver lord who assessed the situation, stood up and took over with his deep voice, starting an old song. As the melody was joined by others, wordlessly humming, he saw Elenluin look up, his red rimmed eyes alight with a fire he had never seen before. The smith seemed to get a hold on himself again and rose with a nod to Celeborn, gently brushing off Cirdan's arm. The soft talking that had been going on in the background fell quiet as silver and black joined their deep voices. Of Fingon they sang, of the grief for his demise, but above all of the pain and questions of those that were left behind. There was only silence amongst the fires as they ended the haunting melody. Quietly, the smith turned and left. Soon most others that had been seated at the high table retreated to their tents as well, though Inglorion knew that none would sleep now. He strongly suspected that Glorfindel or Cirdan would go to Elrond, he should not be left alone on this night. Some of the soldiers started rowdy songs of drinking and feasting, breaking the spell that had lingered after Celeborn and Elenluin had finished. But Gildor pensively looked at the now empty high table and knew in his heart that something had been broken in all that had sat there on this victorious day.


	16. Chapter 16: Wind

Cirdan walked under the starlight with the silver haired elf. Celeborn the wise they had called him in Doriath, when he had been merely a young prince at Thingol's court. Often people did not remember nowadays. They thought of Celeborn as the husband of Galadriel of Lorien, but Cirdan remembered very well that he was as powerful as his wife, though in an entirely different way. Tonight he had revealed his wisdom once more. He alone had remembered the importance of that one song. He had been there when it had been sang the first time, in those dark nights when all hope seemed to have fled and he had remembered who had played it.

"Maglor's music ever stays powerful, as you have shown this night."

Celeborn nodded, gazing upwards. "I think we all needed the reminder, Cirdan, a reminder of a time where we as well thought that we would never survive what was coming. When we suffered losses so bad that we knew the world would forever be changed and did not see how we could carry on without those that had perished. It is no different tonight. Elenluin was not the only one who struggled. I would not have been able to keep my countenance for much longer, and neither would you, my friend."

Cirdan nodded. It was true. Too much had been lost today, too dear friends were now gone, this victory deprived of all joy. "Have you.. Have you seen Gil-Galad now?"

Celeborn shook his head "No, I was close enough to see him burn, I need not see what is left after that."

Cirdan involuntarily shuddered at the memory. "I should go back to Elrond for this night's vigil. He has not left his side since we came back."

"I know. Glorfindel will be with him now I hope, but he will need you too." Celeborn hesitated "Do you think Elenluin would accept my company? I have no intention whatsoever to spend the night alone, but I am not sure if…"

"Go to him, Celeborn, don't hesitate. He needs someone around as much as all of us tonight."

And so it came that as the rising wind started chasing away the clouds in that dark night, Celeborn walked towards Elenluin's tent. He hesitated a moment before entering, almost turned back, but in the end decided differently.

"Elenluin, are you in here?"

For a moment he thought the tent empty, then a soft spoken 'enter' bid him to come in.

When he stepped into the tent that had been his friend's home during this war, he marveled again at the sober interior. For even though Elenluin was considered one of the lords of their people, one of their key generals in war, the only mark of his station he had ever accepted was the luxury of having a tent of his own. And that tent looked much the same as the one that he had occupied when he had been a simple soldier going to war for the first time, now over three millennia ago. A chair, a sober table, a sleeping mat. And on that mat, Elenluin was sitting, playing with a silver-black dagger in his hands.

"How is Elrond?"

"I do not know, but Glorfindel is with him, and Cirdan went there too." Celeborn answered with a sigh as he sat himself down on one of the chairs.

"So you got sent here? To watch over me?" the bitterness in Elenluin's words was audible.

"No Elenluin, I chose to come here, but if you wish to be alone, I will leave." This night, he had no patience for handling another's emotions on top of his own.

Elenluin bowed his head, his right hand holding the dagger even tighter. "No, stay, I'm sorry, I am not in the best of moods tonight."

"None of us is, my friend, none of us is." Silently they sat for a while, lost in thoughts.

Suddenly Elenluin started to speak again, so softly that it was barely audible. "He asked me to come to his tent yesterday. We talked all night, I comforted him, I stayed with him." He gazed up and Celeborn cringed at the haunted and pained look in his eyes as he continued to speak. "He knew, he knew what would happen and made me promise I would live." Unconsciously Elenluin seemed to push the point of his dagger into his left hand, to the point where blood was welling up from the puncture. He apparently felt the pain and he quickly closed his hand, as if to hide what had happened, but when he did so, he closed it around the razor sharp blade, cutting his hand even further.

Celeborn could not help noticing that Elenluin did not even flinch at the sensation. Handing him a piece of cloth that was lying on the table to stop the bleeding of the superficial cut, he spoke "Do you want to go outside? It is dark in here, and we cannot see the stars."

"The stars? The smoke has gone? I did not see…" Elenluin answered hesitantly

"The smoke has gone, and I think Menelvagor will soon be visible."

"I would like to see that, yes." As the other elf rose and sheathed his dagger in a firm and fluent movement, Celeborn slowly released a breath he had not realised that he was holding in the first place.

They stepped out as indeed a strong wind was blowing away the clouds of dust and smoke that had been ever-present in the last years.

"Even the very air knows that evil is gone." Celeborn said looking up to the sky.

"We should start building his pyre. The men of Elendil are already out there, trying to find anything that will burn, for tomorrow." Elenluin dreamily said.

Celeborn turned towards him when hearing those words and wanted to say that surely they could ask some of their men to take care of that. But when he turned, he looked straight into Elenluin's eyes, and quickly averted his gaze. He had not been prepared for the rawness of the pain he had seen. So he only nodded, yes he would help gather fire wood tonight, anything to keep himself busy. Anything to forget the memory of a burning star.

The funeral of Elendil the Tall and Ereinion Gil-Galad happened there in those dry and dusty plains of Dagorlad, and when the pyre was burning, they were grateful that at least they had been able to say their goodbyes – unlike so many times before.

For months after, they were sweeping the plains clean of evil, pressing through as far as Udun, but that as well came to an end and the point came that they had to start thinking of going home.

Elenluin had not decided yet where to go. He did not feel like returning to Lindon, where every sight, every stone would remind him of Ereinion's absence. He grieved, and wanted to be alone. They all grieved, for they had lost a dear friend, a son, a father, a brother. All made their choices at that moment and he knew that Cirdan would need the comfort of his ships and the sound of the sea – his skills would be sorely needed there as well, for many now chose to go to the blessed realm. Truly an age had ended, and things would change once more. Celeborn would rule his people, and loose himself in the daily business of governing his realm. In any case he had a wife he had to go back to, and a wonderful daughter.

Elrond, he was worried about Elrond, for the burden that was placed upon him was the greatest of all. Although it would have been the logical next step, Elrond half-elven had decided not to claim the kingship as he felt that it was not appropriate anymore when so many of them were leaving. The master of Imladris had as well sworn to the others that he would not take up his weapons ever again, that he would dedicate his life to healing and restoring, rather than breaking things. It worried Elenluin, to hear him talking thus, this man that had been Ereinion's right hand and vice-regent for so many years. Maybe Elrond needed him most at this time, to carry his weapons for him, to give him a chance to build his Imladris into the safe haven he so much wanted it to be, without burdening him with all the fighting it would doubtlessly take to keep it so.

When the time had come to decide, he went to Elrond's quarters to talk.

"Elenluin, what brings you here? Is there anything I can do for you?"

The peredhel was sitting at his desk, in a way that so reminded him of Ereinion that Elenluin felt a stab go through his heart. This man for sure was all the son the king could have wished for.

"I wanted to ask you something. You are leaving tomorrow for Imladris, and I would ride with you if you want me."

Elrond raised his brows in surprise, he knew how the smith had always felt about the region after the fall of Eregion and he had never even considered that he might want to go back. Rather he thought that he would have gone with Cirdan to the havens… "Of course you can, you would be most welcome! Will you join us in the valley? You know we would love to have you."

Elenluin took a deep breath "Elrond, I am not ready to stay there yet. But if you allow me to keep my old room to come back to, I will wander around the area, I will be your eyes and ears in the world and return to you with the tidings we need. I will defend your borders my friend, if you can live with the fact that I cannot promise to be there at all times."

Elrond remained silent for a while. "I have known you for quite some time master smith, but you keep on surprising me. I realize what this means to you, to go back to those lands." He raised his head until his eyes met Elenluin's. "Gladly I will take your offer, there is none in the world I would rather have with me than my father's brother."


	17. Chapter 17: Cirdan's message

It was Cirdan to whom had befallen the task to return to Lindon, in those early days after the alliance had disbanded. Before the council of war had left the east, they had made arrangements on how they wanted to stabilize the country. Gil-Galad's advisors had talked and debated for a long time. Elrond, Thranduil, Celeborn, Glorfindel, Elenluin and some of the lesser captains had spent countless hours determining who would hold which areas, how they would govern the land without a king. But in the end, it was clear that many wanted to leave, and that the realm as it had been would cease to exist very soon. And they decided that they would leave behind the idea of a central authority, encouraging those that remained to join one of the existing smaller realms of the havens, Greenwood the great, Lorien or Imladris. So Cirdan went back to the sea, where he wanted to be. He knew what his task was, it would take a long time to build all the ships they needed. Aside from the design and construction of the ships, he needed to reorganize the cities along the banks of the Lhûn, to make sure that all that arrived to seek passage into the west had a place to stay while they were waiting for the ships. And as refugees continued to come in, the shipwright decided that the royal palace was too suitable a building to leave it empty. He started to clear the rooms of those that would not return anymore, to make sure the many arriving elves found shelter.

Twenty five years of the sun after the war had ended, Elrond had come back from one of his journeys to Lindon carrying the royal heirlooms of the house of Fingolfin. The crown, some jewelry, the remnants of a banner. There was so little left after the many wars of the first age and all the hasty flights that had followed them. Still they had managed to save a few and all had agreed that they belonged with Turgon's great-grandson in Imladris. Cirdan had added to Elrond's load other personal messages for Elenluin, Glorfindel and some others that had been frequent visitors to the court in Forlindon, asking them to let him know if he should keep their rooms available for them, or if they could be used for other purposes. He as well inquired if they wanted some of their possessions sent or if there was anything they would like to have from Gil-Galad's personal items. As Elenluin read the message, he knew that this time he would not just reply with a letter. It was time to go back and decide for himself what he would do.

Elrond had travelled back and forth often enough in those years, helping Cirdan in completing some of the items left behind after Gil-Galad's death, but Elenluin never had gone back to Forlindon. Arriving in the city, he was surprised to see how empty it had become. The decay was visible everywhere, streets were not maintained properly, buildings had been neglected. The never ceasing sea-wind had battered the once so colourful wooden shutters so that they now showed all greyish shades. He had known off course that many had not returned from war, their losses had been heavy and even more elves had decided to sail after it had been over. But still, it was confronting and the contrast with the pleasant house in the valley of Imladris could not be greater.

As he entered the palace, it was even worse. The once so lively halls now were silent, and no banner was hanging from the standards at the walls. He had been afraid to come here, afraid of the memories, but when he looked around he realized that there was little left of his old home. "this is your home as long as I live" Gil-Galad once had told him, and he understood now, that with the King's death, the feeling of warmth and homeliness as well had drained from this place.

When he entered the large, and all too empty, common hall, he saw that the shipwright was talking to another old friend. A smile appeared on both the elves' faces as they spotted the unexpected visitor. "Elenluin, it is good to see you again!" It was Gildor who shouted from the other side of the room and quickly approached and embraced the smith. Elenluin laughed at the enthusiastic greeting, and held Gildor at an arm's length for a moment before letting go. "You look good, Inglorion, where have you been these last years?"

"Wandering around, escorting those that want to leave from the inlands to the sea, Lord Cirdan here has had more than enough passengers lately… "

Elenluin nodded, "I know, I saw those groups often enough when I wandered through the Northern lands."

"So where have you been? North you say, still I was there too and never saw you, nor did any of the groups mention that they had met you?" Gildor knew very well that he would have heard if Elenluin had mingled with one of the groups of departing elves. Many of those who still dwelled in Middle-Earth at least knew the name of the one that had served many years as the emissary of peace and even longer as leader of war for Gil-Galad.

"They did not see me, Gildor, I have been in many lands, on both sides of the mountains these last years, helping Elrond to bring peace to his valley." Elenluin did not say more on his whereabouts and even though Inglorion nodded in acknowledgement, Cirdan, who had not yet spoken, seemed to look at him with questions in his eyes.

"What brought you back here, commander? Surely you will not sail now?" Gildor was only half jesting, he did not like the look of weariness in the eyes of the one that he had served for so long.

"No, my friend, I will not, you know that I won't. Lord Cirdan here is cleaning up it seems, and I came to look at what I left in my rooms here so long ago, and if there is anything worth keeping, though I do not expect it to be much."

Cirdan had not spoken yet. He held Elenluin's gaze for a long moment, before he finally started to say something: "Welcome, my boy. I think you will not have been blind to the changes that have been going on here, still I am happy that you decided to come. Your rooms are there for as long as you wish, so go and refresh yourself, I will come to you and join you for dinner in an hour from now."

Elenluin nodded, thinking that his foster father looked tired and he was glad that he did not have to go to a public dinner this first evening.

He walked to his old rooms and tried to shut out the changes he saw on the way. As he entered he took a deep breath. It had not been the first occasion on which he had left them behind for long periods of time. He had often made lengthy journeys in the last millennium, and did not always return to Lindon in between destinations. But these thirty five years had been different. As he entered his room, it felt as if he stepped back in time. He did not even look around, but went straight for the balcony that connected his small living room to his bedroom, happy at least that he still had the comfort of the sea. The ever moving water in this silent corner, it felt good to hear and smell it once again.

Whenever he had been here, so had Ereinion, always near. Memories of times long gone started plaguing him and it felt as if the sea was the only thing that kept him from collapsing, his knuckles white from how firmly he held the handrail.

He missed him, every single day. But there was no way back, nothing he could change. He had survived, and with that everything was said. He had done his duties, carried on, fought to stay alive. But he had not truly lived ever since and he knew it.


	18. Chapter 18: Reflections of the past

As Cirdan entered the room, he saw Elenluin standing on his balcony, staring towards the open waters. It was a sight so familiar it hurt.

Many years ago he had taken care of this young one when he had been a lost child in Balar. Lost indeed, as the boy had had a habit of disappearing when he needed to eat and when he had to go to his classes. In those first months, the shipwright had spent too much time hearing the nurse complain about the young one's latest escapes. But when he had asked the child what it was that was driving him away, the boy would not confide in him. The little one would remain silent, stubbornly telling him that everything was just fine. After the nurse had come back to tell that he had skipped another lesson, Cirdan had grown angry and started looking for the little one himself, wishing to stop this behavior. But as he did so and spent some more time talking to the teachers, he quickly discovered that there actually were only two places where Elenluin would be found. They always had retrieved the young one from either the rooms of one of the older fosterlings or from the balcony of the top chamber of the large house, watching over the sea. That day he had found him sitting on the floor of Ereinion's study, propped up against his friend's knees with closed eyes, while Ereinion was softly and soothingly caressing his hair. Elenluin had looked so sad and forlorn in that moment, that he did not interrupt the scene but left without chiding the little one. After that encounter, he had told the nurses that they would stop the classes for a while, leaving Elenluin alone.

Somehow, he had recognised at that point that the boy needed time to find the right words to tell what was bothering him. As the courses were stopped, he saw the little one visibly relax and after some days, Elenluin did come to him to speak. Cirdan never knew for sure if it had been on his own initiative, or if he had been gently pushed by Ereinion, but one day he had appeared in his study, telling in a small voice that his mother used to tutor him and that he knew a lot of the subjects that the teacher was trying to explain already. The shipwright finally comprehended then that the little boy was put off balance by the memory of the one he had loved so, whom now was replaced by an anonymous tutor. He had sighed, he remembered, and had thought that no child should lose his parents at such a young age. But he had seen a solution and had asked if Elenluin perhaps would like to study alone, and suggested that Ereinion could help him to understand the more complicated items. The little one had enthusiastically agreed and it had been the start of a deep friendship between the two fosterlings that had been placed in his hands, so long ago.

With the years Elenluin had not changed much, even after so many millennia there were few to whom he would open his heart. And the shipwright wondered how he managed, now his friend was no more and the sea was so far from where he dwelled.

He sighed at the forlorn look of the one in front of him, so familiar from the past.

Elenluin turned around as he heard Cirdan enter. "Good to see you again my friend, though I wish it would have been under different circumstances."

A few quick steps brought the shipwright close and he embraced the smith. "Good to see you too, I am glad you decided to come yourself"

"How could I not? I fear there is not that much I ever owned, but there are a few things here that I would like to take." Elenluin hesitated for a moment "and some that I need to show you before I go, I think, so you know that they exist."

Cirdan nodded, "There are some things I have for you too, which Ereinion would like you to have. He has left some indications of where his few possessions should go. Mind you, it are merely small, personal items, but I know they will mean something to you."

At the mentioning of his brother's name, Elenluin's eyes suddenly became even darker, before his regular self-control took over again. He turned away, back to the sea, clenching the handrail once again as if his life depended on it.

Cirdan did not speak either, he understood, he felt much the same.

As servants brought in the plates filled with fish and vegetables, they remained quiet. Only when they were alone and had seated themselves at the small table, Elenluin spoke again, hesitantly. "How did you fare, Cirdan, here in this deserted city? I can only imagine how it must feel to see all depart, one by one."

"I am fine, my boy, it is what I have been here for, for the past ages, and will be until the last ship sails. The hard part is not seeing them sail, the hard part is to see this city emptying."

Elenluin nodded, he understood. "How long will you stay here?"

"As long as it is needed. I expect I will move back to the Grey Havens when the first waves of travelers are out, but that might take some time. And how are you, Elenluin, where did you go in these years? For I do not believe the story you told Inglorion."

The smith did not evade the shipwright's piercing grey eyes. "I did go North, but not for long, indeed. East I went. I wandered back over the mountains and to be honest Cirdan, for many days of those first years I cannot recall where I spent them. Though I did have a purpose in mind. My wanderings led me ever further East." They had stopped pretending that they were actually going to eat, not feeling hungry and too preoccupied to touch the food.

"Elrond sent me a worried message little one, to tell that you had been out for a very long time and that he feared you would not return."

"Oh I returned, and brought Elrond information of lands far beyond where we dwelled before. The sea of Rhûn I passed and far I explored. I returned. And I left again after that, more than once, as I remain restless. One day I might abide in his house for a longer time, but not now, not yet. I need to see the sky above me, the wide open land before me. A horse and the freedom to go wherever I want is all I need now." Silence fell for a while, as Elenluin stared out the window. "At least Elrond is doing better lately. The numerous visits he gets from his silver Lady are helping I think." A shadow of a smile appeared on his face, "I wonder how long they will keep on delaying their marriage. He needs her as she needs him, as is clear for all that can see. Still he hesitates."

"Do you think he expects anyone to object?" Cirdan asked.

Pensively Elenluin shook his head "No, I think that the problem rather is that our half-elven friend has become weary of giving his heart away after all that he has been through, oblivious to the fact that it is already way too late for that, for whether they are married or not, no one can deny that they love each other deeply."

"Except for Elrond himself off course." Cirdan smiled, "I had already suspected something like this. Well, he can try, but I am sure that in the end the Lady Celebrian will make the decision for him."

"I have no doubt that she will, given time. But when she is absent and he is again in one of his darker moods, not even Glorfindel can get him out." Elenluin sighed, "Luckily there is still the young man that he took as his fosterling after the disaster of the Gladden Fields. It is strange how Valandil never fails to make Elrond laugh. It reminds me of how the twins could get Gil Galad to smile even at the worst of times." Elenluin turned towards Cirdan again, his eyes unshrouded for once and the shipwright could see the turmoil inside. The smith softly continued, uncharacteristically talkative on this night. "I never made _you_ laugh, I never even called you 'father', did I? It must have been hard for you, knowing that you cared for me as one, and never got recognized in return. I think you know, though I never spoke of it, that I did not dare to let you in." His face took a pained expression as he continued "I was so afraid to be hurt again, and the only one who managed to breach the walls I had built around my heart was Ereinion. And then at the time of war, when he was fully absorbed by the twins, I turned towards those that you hated, to the ones that had slain your kin rather than to you." Cirdan wanted to say something, but with a small gesture Elenluin indicated that he had not finished yet. "I loved them Cirdan, they were my friends and I lost them. And there was no one who realised how much I grieved, for whom could care for a kinslayer? After, I fled, I hid myself at the seaside and ironically, only you of all people understood."

"Shhh Elenluin, I know. I know all this. You do not need to apologise. No, you never called me father, but it was never needed either, I was content to see you grow up into a fine young man. Through the years, we became friends and that is more than I ever asked for. And as for the friends you made during the War, it were strange times…. and the Feanorians were not always evil, do not think I do not know that." Cirdan's blue eyes shone with compassion. "I remember those days, but I remember as well many days before. We live long, we see much. I know you have been through more than most, even compared to those that you now pity, and proven yourself stronger than anyone expected." Elenluin's protest was cut short. "No, no my boy, there is no reason for you to belittle your own experiences in comparison with others. There are few that suffered your pain and still managed to carry on here in these lands. It is alright that you do not feel ready to stay at Elrond's house yet or do not want to stay in one of those places that contain so many memories. It is alright that you are grieving and – I think - not feeling well. And it is definitely right that you need more time," Pensively Cirdan looked at the one that once had been his charge, "Some days I think that sailing would not be a bad thing for you either. You deserve a place where you can be at peace. You know that you will in the end, though not now yet, that much I understand too. Not as long as you have a promise to keep, as long as there are others that need your protection."

Elenluin looked up in surprise. "I know you can see far, master shipwright, but I had not thought that that particular conversation had reached your ears."

"It has not, but I knew you both long enough. Ereinion would not have left you behind without a task, some kind of goal, if only to make sure that you stayed alive after he was gone." Cirdan's face now as well showed his melancholy upon the memory of Ereinion. "He was wise and warm at the same time. He will be remembered fondly by his people. I miss him too Elenluin, these halls are not the same without him. His laughter, his loud voice as he called to us from the other end of the palace, how he would dreamily stare to the backs of the books in the library, how he would play his harp."

Elenluin felt a tear slip from his eye and he did not try to hide it. "So do I Cirdan, so do I. Long I had the impression that I was not able to do enough for him, unsure on how I could ever repay the kindness he bestowed on me. It was only when we were preparing for the battle of the Gwathló that I understood that it was not needed, that he did lean on me for advice and reflection. He was lonely too, without anyone to whom he could talk openly without fear for political consequences. The moment when I realised that, we truly became brothers again after so many centuries of separation. Wise he was indeed, and in many ways the things he saw pained him, for he did not always see a solution to all the issues he spotted."

"That is true," Cirdan replied "and I must say that he was in some aspects very much like you. He would never talk those things with anyone, save maybe Elrond or you. Those days were difficult and I remember he was worried then. It was at the same time that that Lady he cared so much for left for Aman, did she not?"

"Yes, but that, my friend, is something he did not even discuss with me. Nor with anyone else I think. We sometimes talked on his opinions on marriage and love, but he carefully steered away from any specific questions. He felt he could not offer any woman the home she deserved. We were ever on the war trail in those days, and peace never lasted long enough to his opinion." Elenluin's tone dropped almost to a whisper as he continued "Still it is partially because of me I think that he got even more averse to the idea of marriage. When he saw how I struggled after Elianna's and Earaumo's deaths…." The rest of the sentence remained unvoiced.

Cirdan as well did not speak for a while, lost in thoughts.

When the night grew darker, as the moon set, Elenluin stood up, lit a candle and slowly walked to the chest he had kept carefully locked in his absence.

"Cirdan, I will take these with me, but you will need to see them, to make sure their existence is not forgotten. If ever you sail, and I do not, make sure these pass with you." Slowly and carefully he lifted out an old set of armor, now no longer shining. And from underneath he lifted a small bundle, wrapped in a piece of dark blue velvet.

"I have shown this once to Ereinion, no one else knew of its existence." Unwrapping the package, Cirdan saw that the smith took out two bundles of papers and a black box.

"These writings are old now, and almost unreadable, but every Yen I made sure I created a fresh copy, so the transcripts have been saved." He gave the newer looking bundle to the shipwright, who took it with some reverence, as he had no idea what he was receiving.

Music, it was music. Notes danced over the paper, lyrics in Elenluin's familiar strong –if not always very legible – hand. And when he looked through the bundle, gazed at the titles, he was surprised. "Is this what I think it is? How did you get these Elenluin?"

"He gave them to me the night before the last kinslaying. He was loudly arguing with Maedhros when I entered his tent and he sent me out in anger. I was hurt and afraid, and when he told me to take my bundle with me, I did not ask questions but just took the package and left. It is only many centuries after that I remembered to open it and found that he had not just put in my own items, but as well a full score of his most important compositions, and the silver flute Celebrimbor had once created for him." Elenluin sighed "Looking back, I think he knew what the outcome of his actions would be, he really did not want to fight anymore. He was always loyal to Maedhros, but that night he was tremendously angry with his brother and I must say that I was terrified. In that moment, I understood how he must have been when he was the High king for a while."

"I do not know if I really like the idea that the kinslaying was a premediated act after all. I had hoped they had done it in a moment of red hot anger."

"I know. Still I think they did not really want to, but felt cornered by their earlier oath and actions, the choices they had made throughout the ages had all led up to that moment. A personal message that I found on the first manuscript taught me that at least he still cared enough to get me out of the way, so I would not get stained by whatever they were planning. Ai, Maglor Feanorion was many things, Cirdan, but above all he was probably the most powerful bard that ever lived. Some say Daeron was more skilled, but I would say they were different and beyond comparison and I would not let his music fall into oblivion. He deserves to be remembered as more than a kinslayer."

"He will be, Elenluin, and so will his brother. There are more who can vow for the other aspects of their lives, Elrond not the least of them. Trust me, even if through the ages the tales simplify, and naught remains but the stories of death and destruction, people will remember Fingon's friendship for Maedhros and realise that he must have been good at some point, for their wise and valiant King loved him enough to risk his own life and rescue him out of the very mouths of evil. And when they talk about Maglor, they will remember his songs and they will say that he must have had a heart after all, for after one of his darkest deeds, he took pity on two little princelings, and cared enough to take them with him. And they will tell of how he loved them so much, so much that it was enough to let them go at the moment his oath started to claim him once more."

Elenluin stared at his hands as Cirdan spoke. In the end he answered "I hope… yes, I would like to believe that…."


	19. Chapter 19: Daybreak

The night came to an end, and they both spent the remaining hours in silence, enjoying the other's company while together they watched the stars fade until the sun started warming the earth once more.

Then Cirdan stood up. "Come, I think it is time we go to Ereinion's rooms. I have some items for you too.

"But Shipwright, do you not need to attend any duties? Do you still have time?"

"I do not and I have time, there is nothing here now, Elenluin, that cannot wait. No affairs of state are being arranged here, merely ships and refugees, and I am sure they can manage another day without me."

So Elenluin went with him, through long corridors and halls, a route that he could walk with his eyes closed. He was glad they had waited until the sun was out to come here. To visit these rooms during the night would have been simply unbearable.

As they opened the heavy doors, Elenluin steeled his mind before going in. Entering was like stepping back in time, the dining room almost unchanged. However it was when they crossed the doorstep that led to the study that it became really difficult to keep his composure. In a flash he saw again how he had cried out his agony and pain here to his brother, how they had talked on the lives they were leading and what they expected from death. How they had built plans for times of war and plans for times of peace. How he had fallen asleep so many times on the couch, staying near on those nights when Ereinion worried too much to be left to himself, making sure his brother found some kind of peace by watching over him until he had fallen asleep. And even more often on those other evenings, when he needed some company himself to chase away his nightly terrors, listening while the king played his harp.

He rested his head against doorframe and closed his eyes. Cirdan was waiting patiently behind him. And after some moments in which he seemed to have frozen in that position, unable to move, he felt a hand on his shoulder pulling him back to the here and now. As he turned he saw that silent tears were streaking the shipwright's face.

"It does not become easier with time, does it Cirdan? So many losses we have suffered, and still we are as much put off balance as the first time. "

"Not all losses are the same, not even to me. I might have reached a point where I finally understand what you went through after your son…."

Elenluin nodded with a sad expression on his face "Only experience can create understanding, you once told me when I was very young and eager to learn. Alas, too many have told me these last ages that they comprehend. I would wish no one would, if it would mean that all their sons and daughters were still alive."

Cirdan wiped his hand over his face, regaining his composure.

"Come. I have some items laid aside for you. He wrote sort of a will, though it was more a factual list of possessions and to whom they should go."

As Cirdan opened one of the drawers, Elenluin winced. Another first, to see someone access the desk of Ereinion, it felt awkward, as if they were trespassing an invisible border.

"His father's book I sent with Elrond, to be kept with the heirlooms of the house of Fingolfin. But this he meant for you to have." And as Elenluin looked up he saw that Cirdan held up a slim dagger, simple but elegant and he recognized it. Taking the weapon from the silver bearded elf he softly spoke "This was the first real knife I crafted under Celebrimbor's tutelage. I gave it to him the day I parted for Eregion, I never knew he had kept it."

"What did he give to you that day? Did he have a parting gift as well?" Cirdan asked in return.

The smith smiled at the memory "nothing, he had forgotten that I would leave. We were not so close at that time anymore, Cirdan, he was so busy with affairs of state, and peace proved more difficult to handle than war. He did not ask my advice very often and instead leaned heavily on Elrond, for which I cannot blame him, for the master of the valley ever was wise and surely more pleasant to talk to than I was in those days."

"That might explain then, why he as well left you this." Reaching into a bag that he had placed next to the desk, Cirdan took out another object. It was a small golden brooch, shaped as a star. It seemed rough and unfinished, however the many tiny sapphires that were set in it spoke differently, making the jewel sparkle in reflection of the light. "He kept it with the dagger and a few seashells and his will specifically mentioned that all should be given to you should anything happen to him. I can only guess that he remembered at some point that he had sent you off without a proper token, and had it made – or perhaps even created part of it himself. Or maybe it was for another reason that I cannot fathom, none can tell now."

"Seashells you say? I think I remember when he picked them up. Not long before we went off to Tharbad, I took him for a run along the beach. I have hardly ever seen him so happy and carefree in all my life. That day is one of the best recollections I have of him… He had fun telling the new recruits dirty jokes and laughed so hard when he realised that they had not recognized him that he had tears in his eyes. But it was the sense of freedom that he enjoyed most, in those few hours all his worries were far away and it was just him and me, running along the Lhûn. The light in his eyes when we reached the lighthouse is a sight that I forever will carry with me."

"I remember that day too – or better said the discussions the day after" Cirdan said with a wry smile. "I can even think of a certain commander who cut short the protestations of some of the senior councilors who were utterly shocked to find out that their king had been out without an escort."

"True," Elenluin now laughed again at the memory "Ciryatur's face was priceless, I guess Tar-Minastir would never have done something so foolish. But indeed, I did manage to get them to stop nagging about it fairly quickly, I remember I had little patience for their quarrels at that time."

"You gained the admiral's respect that day I think, he could appreciate the boldness of the move, and he told me afterwards, when he was asking me about ship building, that he was impressed with how you had silenced the other councilors"

The smith shrugged, "it was none of their business, they were already putting too much weight on Ereinion's shoulders as it was. They had better focused on their own parts, if he really had had to decide all those little things that they thought necessary, he would not have needed them in the first place."

Cirdan smiled now too, "I never thought any differently, though I might have expressed myself a little more diplomatically. I almost could not keep myself from laughing at their shocked faces."

"Ah, that is why you are called one of the wise, and I am merely a soldier, master shipwright, I am no diplomat." Elenluin smiled as he spoke, he knew all too well that as he had been part of the inner circle of the king and had led their people in countless battles, no one would call him a simple soldier anymore, though it was still how he thought about himself.

"Is there anything else you would want to take Elenluin? I will never vacate these rooms and leave them into time's gentle hands, but someday I do not doubt that we will find them decayed and gone."

He did not have to think about what he would ask. "His harp, Cirdan. Though I will not play it, I want to keep it, I will not let it fall into ruin with this palace."

Cirdan nodded slowly. "Elrond did not want it, he said he would never be able to play it, but for you it has a different meaning, I know. Take it with you, little one, and keep it. May it chase the night away once more for you even without the one who made it sing."


	20. III: End of an era- CH 20: Two swords

**III: End of an era**

Here begins the third part of the tales of Elenluin of Hithlum, the wanderer, on finding peace.

* * *

_**CH : Two swords**_

_III 110_

The last homely house they called it nowadays, and every time Elenluin returned of one of his many wanderings, he would think that the name could not be more appropriate.

Elrond had built his sanctuary over the years carefully and with insight, creating a place that was very close to perfection. The herald and warrior had truly become a healer of body and souls in the aftermath of the war of the Last Alliance.

For the elves in general, this house, Lorien and the havens were all that was left in Middle earth. They were fewer and fewer with every turn of the sun that passed and soon there would be hardly any left in this earth. Men thrived in the world out there and as Elenluin wandered through the wild, he watched over Isildur and Anarion's heirs. They never failed to surprise him, so much courage they had and so strong they were while their fleeting lives passed so quickly.

But even in the perfect house he had felt the need to leave after some weeks, every time again.

He needed the time alone, not taking anyone with him on his many wanderings. He needed it to grieve, to think, to shout and scream at the empty air. After some time, he did not know how many years, how many centuries, it passed. Somehow he started making music again, something he never thought would return to him. He felt that it was easier to express his grief in sound than words, he had gotten so old now, seen so much; the deep sense of loss that haunted him had become apparently inevitable. The fact that all around him disappeared was only bearable because he knew there was happiness still to be found in this world, if not for him, then for Elrond and his young family. He had found a new purpose in his life, protecting them, roaming the land, swearing that if one deserved happiness, it was Elrond half-elven.

* * *

_**III 241**_

Elrond was sitting in his favourite chair in the library, in his lap a small bundle just had been placed. Smiling, he looked up to his wife, who had intruded into his sanctuary, effectively chasing away his melancholy state. She never failed to draw him back to the here and now when his mind was dreaming of the past again. As he looked to the baby girl in his arms, fussing a bit, he knew that he had never been so content in his long life.

"Where are the boys?"

Celebrian laughed, "Where do you think, my dear?"

Elrond rolled his eyes "Knowing them, either doing something wild like jumping from the waterfall again or at the training ground."

She nodded, a smile playing around her mouth "they are training, my love, Elenluin made sure of that after their last escapade. He grumbled something of at least having their energy spent on something useful."

Now Elrond laughed too, absentmindedly removing his finger out of the grip of the baby in his arms, caressing her cheek "I can imagine him saying that indeed. Now, my love, you know we will not be able to keep them here in the valley for much longer? They are grown now and they want to go discover the wide world."

"I know, but they still seem so young, if they would only stay for a while."

"We have this one now to cuddle and care for my love." He said with a smile, "and I tell you what, we send our boys on their first official errand with Glorfindel to your father's house, so they have a relative safe travel, but still get a feeling of independence."

She nodded, it would be a good solution. The boys were getting increasingly restless here in the valley. On top they would be able to help their father as his eyes and ears, and his emissaries if needed, as he hardly ever left Imladris nowadays. The first years he had regularly travelled to Lindon, helping Cirdan closing some of the items left behind by Gil-Galad's death. Now he was content with staying in Imladris, building a centre of knowledge and peace, an island in a hostile world.

* * *

It was late in the evening when Elrond called Elenluin to his study. The warrior-smith had returned some days ago, and taken up his favourite pass-time when he was in Rivendell: to teach his friend's young sons a lesson or two on the training ground.

The boys had been trained well, but as Glorfindel had been their main teacher, Elenluin found them a tad too predictable in their sword skills, which he tried to mend by giving them a new challenge every time he passed.

When he entered the study, he had just refreshed himself. He had stayed in the field after the twins had left, moving with practiced ease, executing some of the more complex drills. Glorfindel had joined later in the evening to spar and the clashing of their training swords had brought other spectators around, watching the dark and the blonde elf measuring their strength. It had almost been a dance, both well aware of their opponent's strengths and weaknesses after so many years. In the end they had stepped back as the sun was going down, saluting each other with their sword, calling it a draw.

"That was one formidable fight my friend. I think you had half of Imladris watching the two of you."

A rare smile flashed over Elenluin's face. "It was a good one, indeed. I did not realise you were amongst the spectators though."

"I came to look for you to ask you something, and happened to find my two military advisors clashing, how could I not? It was interesting to see how you two still differ so much in style, after all these years. "

"We are who we are my friend, different in character and experience, something that I hope will never change."

"True, you are. Speaking of which, so are my sons, as alike they are on first sight, you know they are not in terms of personality. And now that I need to send them out on their first real errand, I realised that I do not have appropriate weapons for them. Ah off course I could give them each one of the excellent swords we have in the armoury, but seeing the two of you today, made me think differently." The master of Imladris paused a moment, his eyes twinkling, "Do you think you still know how to forge a sword master smith?"

"I might still my friend, I might. So they will be allowed out eh? I will make sure they leave not unequipped. Give me a couple of weeks." Elenluin smiled now genuinely, Elrond knew very well that he had never given up his trade. For although he had not made any new commissioned sword since Eregion, he had countless times repaired those broken in fights. The forge brought back many memories, and not on all days he was prepared to face them, but for these sons of Ereinion's dearest friend, he knew he could.

Some weeks later, Elrond found two packages on his desk, one with a short, broad and relatively heavy sword, the hilt engraved with a horse for his younger son. The other longer, finer, more slender, the star of Earendil indicating his firstborn to be the owner of this second masterpiece. And he knew who had put them on his desk, before he had left again for the plains of Hollin.


	21. Chapter 21: Celebrian

_'In 2509 Celebrian wife of Elrond was journeying to Lórien when she was waylaid in the Redhorn Pass, and her escort being scattered by the sudden assault of the Orcs, she was seized and carried off. She was pursued and rescued by Elladan and Elrohir, but not before she had suffered torment and had received a poison wound.'_

Elrond could not believe it. This could not be true. Everything told him this was only a dream.

But there he was, the ragged, exhausted messenger in front of him, telling over and over again "we have lost her, she got captured"

He did not hear anymore, did not want to think about it and just acted automatic, getting out all other elves in the room and sending one after Glorfindel, it was about all he could manage now.

Glorfindel was in the gardens when the runner found him, quickly telling how a ragged elf had arrived, telling that the lady of the house had been captured by an orc band on her way to Lorien and that the lord requested his presence. He did not wait even for the full story to end, he ran inside, to the brother's apartments, as he knew they had just returned from one of their many scouting trips.

He found them quickly, and did not waste time with subtlety "Elladan, Elrohir. Bad tidings have reached us, your mother has been captured by a band of orcs."

The two, who had been surprised at the whirlwind Glorfindel entering, jumped up from their chairs – Elrohir cried out "How can this be, she had an escort with her. Whoever let her get captured will pay for this! Where are the bastards, we need to leave"

Glorfindel grasped his arm, holding him back, for he would have stormed out of the room in that very moment. "Calm, for however hard it is, we will need to think and plan now, before we go. I agree, speed is critical, but the last we can use is more captives. Let's go to your father, he needs us now."

Glorfindel observed Elrohir. As hot as his anger was moments ago, as cold was his behaviour now. He nodded and followed. All that time Elladan had not spoken a word. His emotions veiled, his grey eyes staring out of the window. And not for the first time, Glorfindel thought that this brother resembled his father more than any other sibling.

When they entered Elrond's audience room, the master of Rivendell was sitting on his bench, head in his hands. The twins almost ran towards him and for a brief moment they held him close. Then they stepped back, as if they had trespassed their father's personal space and all three had surprisingly identical expressions, knowing that now was not the time for panic or grief, but action needed to be taken. Glorfindel could not help noticing how a harsh trait settled around Elladan's mouth while he said "we will find her father, we promise"

Elrond nodded, he did not even object on the statement of his son that implied that they would go on the search party. In that instant, he had a perfect understanding of what was needed. "I will stay here, when she comes back, she might be wounded. I will prepare and stay. I cannot leave the people without their leader, it is my duty. It is the only thing I can do." Glorfindel nodded, he had hesitated to bring it up but it would indeed have been the wrong action to have the lord of Imladris leave his home in these hostile times, he was too important, he could not be put at risk, whatever the cost would be. His sons were now both seasoned warriors, they could take his place. "Let's take a look at how we will do this."

They opened the map and as Glorfindel was watching the sketches of the Lorien road and realized that similar patrols would be leaving from there as well, if the lady did not arrive as planned later tomorrow. So no use of covering that part of the road, they needed to focus on the part from here to the Redhorn pass. She had been captured at least five days ago, for though the one that came back had done what he could to warn them as soon as possible, it was a long way from Rivendell to Hollin.

"Elrond, Elenluin left two days ago on a patrol to the Eregion region…" the words hung in the air as Glorfindel and Elrond exchanged looks.

Elrohir said "Good! If there is anyone who can find them it is him, he knows the area like the back of his hand. If we ride hard we can still catch him."

"I will go with you," Glorfindel replied, "and join up with him, the sooner we get there the better, when we are there we can still split up" All the time he and Elrond kept looking at each other, until the latter eventually nodded.

The brothers did not understand what was going on, but now was not the time to ask. They continued to talk for ten minutes more on which party would be sent where, and in the end agreed that Elrond and Erestor were going to stay behind in Rivendell, while multiple patrols of sufficient manpower were sent out in all directions, maximizing the chances of finding Celebrian, but the twins and Glorfindel were going straight for the most probable route, the road to Lorien.

When the brothers had left to spread out the orders and get their packing ready, Glorfindel stayed behind and for the first time sat down next to Elrond.

"We will find her Elrond, I promise." He knew he repeated himself, but still could find no other words to say in a moment like this. "and I will take care of the young ones, we will return."

The master of Rivendell was hesitating in his reply. The past hour seemed still very dream-like, and he kept hoping he would wake up from this nightmare.

"Is it wise to take Elenluin along?"

"If there is anyone who knows where to look, and how to find her, it is him Elrond"

"I keep on seeing that scene before me, when I was the one getting him from that cave, what if, what if she…" He could not finish the sentence, and Glorfindel didn't answer, but just put his arm around his shoulders.


	22. Chapter 22: In the plains

They rode hard, the band with the twins and Glorfindel, pushing their horses to their limits, all the time weighing the need for speed with the fact that they would need to endure multiple days to be able to cover the full distance. They knew that every day they needed to find her, was one day longer that Celebrian was in the enemy's hands.

Elenluin saw and heard them coming. He had left Rivendell quietly some days before, going out on patrol and had been more interested in details and knowledge of what was happening in the area between the valley and the mountains than in speed. Thus he had only covered a limited distance these first three days.

When they were about to overtake him, he was waiting on the road, for he had long seen the golden haired Glorfindel being part of the group and knew that something was very wrong for the elf-lord to leave the valley so openly.

They did not spend much time explaining, two brief sentences were enough. They rode on part of the night, when the moon was still shining, but then had to rest, for the horses could not go further. As they made their camp, they did not risk making a fire, for now they were approaching quickly the Eregion area.

"Elenluin, you know this place better than any of us – where do we need to start to look tomorrow" it was Elrohir asking, no even demanding.

Slowly, Elenluin started drawing a rough sketch of the area with a stick in the sand, "there are multiple places that would suit their purpose… I am pretty certain that here, here and there they could be. We need to think about how we want to tackle them, splitting up to allow us to cover all areas, while still leaving enough manpower to be sure we can rescue her when needed." He hesitated, "there might be one more place where they can be and which is probably the closest to the road to Lorien…" and suddenly he planted the little stick fiercely in the ground, breaking it in two as he did so and stood up. "I'm going to look to the horses."

Elrohir jumped up "Hey, you cannot just walk away, why won't you show us, are you working with them or what?"

"Elrohir!" Glorfindel said it so sharply that the man immediately turned around to him "Stop this foolishness, sit down and listen for once."

Reluctantly he sat down again, his face still full of anger and impatience, glaring at Elenluin's back, now out of earshot.

Glorfindel understood what he must be going through now, so he decided not to react to the harsh tones in Elrohir's voice, but rather to explain a thing or two.

"Both of you, listen to me. You know the story of how Imladris got founded don't you? Well, then you should be aware of what happened to Eregion. "

Elladan nodded. "We've been there often enough, and father told us once about how the city got sacked. Many died during the siege and final battles. I think he told the story when we were going out for our first real patrol, the day when he gave us our swords, right Elrohir?"

"Yes, I have no idea why he chose that one to tell. But actually, he never told the full story, the only thing he mentioned was that he was sent by Gil-Galad to go to save the community but was too late, and only could rescue some of the survivors out of the hands of their torturers afterwards. He emphasized that we needed to remember that although a battle might be lost, a war can still be won."

"Those swords you got from him, who made them?" Glorfindel requested.

"I don't feel like answering riddles now Glorfindel, I suppose father asked one of the smiths to make them for him, all I know is that it is a good one and I will be very glad to use it. Every minute that we need to linger here is one too many."

"It was not a riddle, it was a question. There is no smith in Imladris that could make a sword so well fitted to the person as the ones you own. They were created by one of the very few surviving smiths of Eregion and he just went to look after your horses. Do not underestimate what Elenluin has seen and been through in his life, remember your father's words on what happened there, and think about what would have happened to a smith in those circumstances. Respect him, although he is not always easy to understand. I will not tell his story to you, for it is his choice with who he shares it. But rest assured, he has more reasons to hunt orcs than any other of us." He paused a moment and then continued "Be aware that what we will find may not be the happy ending we all hope for."

Elenluin returned and caught that last sentence: "Elladan, Elrohir, you both consider yourselves tested in battle? These will be the days you prove it. We will need to be strong, and despite what we will encounter, we have only one goal, get your mother out of there, understood?"

All around people were nodding, and avoiding each other's looks. They could only guess what might be waiting for them.


	23. Chapter 23: Family

Some hours later they split up. The next days Elenluin and Glorfindel each led a small band to cover some of the caves while Elladan and Elrohir stayed together and went for the road. When they had checked their part and found it empty, both the warriors had agreed to go and look for the sons of Elrond.

Even at times like these, Elenluin found it so easy to forget that the brothers already were older than he had been when Eregion fell. He kept on seeing them as the young ones that had brought mischief into the house of Elrond, while they were indeed experienced warriors. Up till now they had been spared much of the grief and pain he and his generation had had to endure at their age – it made him realize how the world had been at peace these last centuries, something that seemed to have abruptly ended now.

It appeared that in the end, freeing her had not been hard. The brothers had kept their cool and made their intervention swiftly and effectively. When they had met again on the road back, all had been settled, no Orcs would follow for they had made sure to leave none alive.

It was surprising how the two still kept their calm despite the circumstances and carried their mother now as fast as their already tired horses could carry to Imladris. The whole journey, it was Elrohir who was holding Celebrian carefully. She was in a bad condition as she seemed to have suffered a poisoned wound which even Glorfindel could not heal, and remained unconscious.

When they crossed the Bruinen River, their father took over. He was waiting for their arrival, taking her broken and mistreated body carefully out of his son's arms. All the time, none of them said a word or shed a tear. There were more important things to do and think of – grief would come later.

As the family gathered Elenluin retreated and went to his rooms. He was tired of the long forced campaign and felt obsolete. Besides, he needed some time alone and some treatment for his back. Even after all these years, he still needed to take care of his scars whenever he could. Gwillion had long gone, died, as so many others, in the days of the last alliance. Nowadays one of the young healers of the house would come over and salve his back, but today he did not want to go there, he wanted to stay here, alone. A hot bath might help and if it did not, he would endure the pain that would come.

As he got out of his bath with aching muscles, he heard a knock on the door and a softly spoken "Elenluin, are you in there". Recognizing Elladan's voice, he quickly threw on a tunic and opened the door to let the elf in. The younger one looked strained, he thought, but not desperate. At least that was some kind of relief, as he had not been able to stop his own thoughts stumbling back and forth on what now would follow for Celebrian. "Glorfindel sent me here with this" Elladan said, showing a pot of salve "he said you would need this urgently."

A wry smile crossed Elenluin's face "He was right. Tell me, did he send your brother elsewhere for another errand?" Elladan looked puzzled and lost "yes, he sent Elrohir to look after the horses, they still needed rubbing down."

"Whatever you do in life Elladan, always be grateful to have people like Glorfindel around, who do not only see but take action as well. The friends that see the need in all of us, I in need of this pot of salve, you in need of a quiet talk, and your brother in need of something to keep his hands occupied while he can be alone and finally allow himself his feelings." He went to a small cupboard and took out very thin gloves. "So, now that you are here, will you help me?"

Elladan, who had stood silently and tense, relaxed a little "if I can help, what should I do?"

"Take the balm, and put a thin layer on my back. I cannot reach it all myself, but be careful to put on the gloves first, or you will not feel anything for the next days." Elladan half-elven nodded, he could do that.

"Let's sit down then my boy" and Elenluin removed his tunic, uncovering his back. The scars had much improved over the years, now showing only many silvery white lines, with here and there a streak of red. It almost never inflamed anymore, and with the balm he applied, he could manage the stiffness and pain that were still there after long and hard journeys. But he never uncovered it in public and thus Elladan had never seen him. The half-elf gasped at the amount of red-white lines that were visible, but did not talk, nor did he ask anything. After Glorfindel's story, he had an idea what caused these wounds and he did not feel prepared to hear that story at this time, when he was so worried about his mother.

Once Elladan had applied the salve to the full surface, Elenluin relaxed a little. He observed the younger one putting away the pot and the gloves, and saw him rubbing his arm where he had touched it by accident with the salve. The spot would be numb and tingling he knew. Elladan than sat down again next to him and they both kept quiet for a while.

"Elladan, above all trust your father." Elenluin suddenly said. The young man looked at him, still silent, but with doubt in his eyes.

"He managed to get me through this mess of which you see now only a very vague memory, my boy. I do not think anyone else would have been capable of doing that. However, don't expect things to be unchanged after. For forever there will be scars, those that you see and those you don't, and I can tell you, after more than four thousand years – they are not all as visible as these." He turned to the younger elf, putting one hand on his shoulder in support of getting up. His hand lingered a bit when he was standing, considering one last thing "You and your brother were impressive these last days. Never doubt that you did all you could and all that was needed, there was nothing more or different any of us could have done. Stay here as long as you wish, consider this your safe haven from all that is happening outside. Feel free to come and talk, I might understand more than you think…"

"Know this, Elladan, once I had a son and if he would have lived to grow up, I would have wished him to be like you and your brother." And as he felt his own emotions rising, Elenluin saw that tears started streaming out of Elladan's eyes and he turned around and brusquely hastened himself to his bedroom.


	24. Chapter 24: Midwinter

Days and weeks passed, one very alike to the other. Elrond kept his vigil with Celebrian and seemed to get the better of the poison. However, as she started to recover physically, she still clearly suffered deep anxiety and mental pain.

Elenluin had not left the house since he had returned with Elrond's sons. Initially he had wanted to go hunting orc's as soon as possible, but then he saw the two young ones leaving. They seemed to be flying from their mother's pain, taking over where he had left it, seeking revenge. And he had decided to stay in the house should his help be needed, ever ready to go when and where he would be asked. He spent his days alone in his rooms or in the small smithy of Imladris. And as he was more and more in the forge again, he started repairing some items for those who asked once more. Quickly the word spread that there was an experienced smith around, and requests for swords and armour for those that needed them came in. There were some younger smiths as well nowadays and he found he liked to teach them. The rhythm of the hammer soothed his troubled mind and to his surprise, he noticed that he started to enjoy himself in creating again.

Elrond's sons had returned after some time. When he looked at the two, he could see the change. A hard trait had settled around their mouths, their clear grey eyes shining when they talked about how many they had slain. He regretted the change, but knew that it was unavoidable.

As time passed, autumn turned into winter. On a dark night, after spending a long day in the forge, Elenluin was quietly sitting in the hall of fires, softly humming a song. He longed for the light to return now that midwinter was near.

"When he is King we will give him the kings' gifts,  
Myrrh for its sweetness, and gold for a crown…"

He hesitated, changing the melody along the way for one that was older, much older.

Singing, it was so long ago that he had tried that. Play, yes, he would still play the flute now and then when he was alone, but singing… It was so connected with the death of Maglor, he never had dared doing that again.

Today it felt different, as if it was time to remember pain of old in these dark days and he started to sing some forgotten words. Words he had helped noting down in a war encampment now so long ago, when the world was young.

_Fingon the Valliant, king of old_

_Friend of our house, wise and bold_

And as he sang on, his thoughts dwelt back to Elianna, to his boy, to Maglor the bard, even to his father, but to Ereinion above all. As he sang he realized that with the thousands of years that had passed, the sharpness of the pain had gone away. The memories of love and friendship now prevailed over those of grief. Somehow, somewhere, healing had found him in the end, at this difficult moment when another was suffering a very similar pain.

* * *

Elrond entered the hall, the large flames of the fire in the middle lightening the arches. He had been sent out of Celebrian's room again by Glorfindel, who had been adamant that he get some food and rest for himself from time to time now that the critical danger had passed. He stood still when he heard a voice like he had not heard before, deep and dark at times, flying higher then again as it was singing of a king long gone. Of Fingon the Valiant he sang and of his friendship with the house of Feanor, though all were against him, this mighty king who tried to stand up against evil but fell before the gates of Angband. He lamented those who fell with him, loyal to their lord to the end and sang on about the grief of those that were left behind.

_My King, where have you gone_

_Leaving us behind, _

_My Lord, why did you go,_

_Where I cannot follow_

Elrond leaned against one of the pillars; he recognized the melody of the song from his childhood, though he never had heard the words that now were sung with it. Unnumbered tears. Through the years he had started to grasp the meaning of those words. So many were lost, so lonely he felt at times, and now, when he felt his heart was going to break through the grief for his beloved, this song.

Others seemed to linger in the shadows, listening silently. Suddenly Elrond felt a hand taking his own. He did not have to look to know that his daughter had slipped in next to him, finding comfort in her father's arm. Her brothers could not be far –they would not let her out of their sight presently, afraid as they were that something would happen to her. He looked around and saw his sons indeed close by. Elladan was standing behind Elrohir, a calming hand on his brother's shoulder, staring at the fire. Ever his eldest was the most patient and caring one, even in times when he needed caring for himself. At that time, he realized that he had to talk to them, to these children of his. About how their mother was doing, the battle he was fighting and what he expected that would happen. He could not bear it alone anymore and they were grown-ups that had a right to know.

The haunting melody softly continued, now gaining volume, and then almost dropping to a whisper. It reminded him of Maglor, so long ago, how he would sing and play for his brother and him in the evening, painting a story with his voice when they missed their real parents. His children deserved comfort, even though he did not know where to get it for himself, he was determined to make sure they found it through him.

He softly squeezed Arwen's hand, whispering "Shall we go somewhere quiet?" She nodded "go to your brothers, little one, and come to my study in an hour or so. I will be with you, but I want to see the singer first." He pressed a kiss on her forehead and sent her off with a sad smile on his lips. And although the hall had filled up when more heard the music, no one else dared come nearer to him as he silently and alone waited for the song to end.

As one melody ended, another singer took over. Elrond recognized Glorfindel's clear and loud voice, contrasting the previous dark baritone, starting the lament for Gil-Galad in response.

He moved silently through the shadows, until he saw the previous singer sitting with his head bowed, listening to this song about the one that still was so close to both of their hearts.

Elenluin looked up and Elrond wondered as he always did in those occasions, if it was Vilya the smith felt or merely his own presence. It did not matter. Elenluin seemed to have understood the look in his eyes and rose with one fluent movement. He joined the lord of the valley, listening until the song ended in unspoken agreement. When Glorfindel finished, they quietly walked out of the hall. As they rounded a corner, the smith put his hand on the lord's shoulder. "Elrond, how are you?"

"I'm fine." He did not dare look into Elenluin's eyes, for the pity he feared to find there would be unbearable in this moment. But the smith prevented him from continuing – gently squeezing his shoulder. "Elrond, look at me, and tell me the truth."

As he looked up, he was surprised by the deep understanding in those dark eyes. He hesitated for a moment and then admitted "I am scared my friend, for the first time in a long while. I have to go to my children very soon and tell them that although I did everything I could, I am not sure anymore that I can heal their mother." As he said the words out loud, the words that he had thought about so long – checking all possible options over and over in his head, he felt like the weight of them finally hit him. He felt suddenly very weak and realized that the music in the hall had made him forget again what he had promised Glorfindel: to eat.

"Elrond, come with me to my rooms for a moment, eat and rest out of the eye of your servants and people, give yourself some moments of peace."

"I have to go to my study Elenluin, I promised my children I would talk to them."

Elenluin turned the master of Imladris to him "Elrond, listen to me, you will eat first. I will let them know that they need to come to my quarters. Understood? There is nothing you can do when you faint in ten minutes from now, you hear me?"

Elrond could not suppress a small smile as in a reflex he nodded – he had spent so many days being trained by this man in his young years, he could not disobey his orders. Besides, he knew he was right.

Elenluin quickly sent a servant with the message to Elladan and Elrohir and together they walked through the shadowy hallways of the house. Elenluin's chambers were at the far end, where he would not be disturbed and could be alone. Gil-Galad's rooms had been the only ones close; they now were empty and never had been filled again.

As they entered and Elenluin lighted a lamp, Elrond felt how tired he was. Sitting down in one of the sofas he rested his hands loosely on his knees, watching how Elenluin took some provisions out of his cupboards. Often the master smith would remain here during his stays in Rivendell, avoiding the diners and other social events in the great hall, so he was prepared for an unexpected guest.


	25. Chapter 25: Hail Earendil

Elenluin observed Elrond while he was eating. The way how he was sitting, how he behaved, he was more like Ereinion with each fleeting year.

It was hard to see the master of the house in sorrow. For all these years he had hoped that although they had had a similar hard start in life, Elrond would be the one suffering less, having found his beloved waiting for him after the war, and after his happiness with his three lovely children. Now it seemed that not even that was going to last...

A small knock on the door told him that the three had arrived and as he opened the door, he saw them enter, the two young Lords of Imladris and their Lady Sister. All so alike their father in looks, though not in character. Elrohir was the one that inherited most of his mother's temperament, spirited and open. Elladan on the contrary was always closed and guarded, which was why he felt so much more affinity with the eldest son himself. Arwen, she was the most balanced, most like her father, maybe having the best of both worlds.

They seemed ill at ease, not knowing what to expect from their father's summoning in this unusual location. Elladan was leading the way and sitting himself down without waiting for permission in one of the comfortable couches, motioning his siblings to follow. Ever since that first night, he had been here countless times to talk and Elenluin thought that this son would make his father's task easier tonight, for he understood so much more already.

He planned to withdraw to his own bedroom, leaving the family alone, but Elrond, getting up from the table, stopped him "please, Elenluin, stay. There are things I would like to speak of tonight on which I will need your perspective."

Elenluin drew a chair near, nodding, and seated himself slightly out of the circle that was formed by the small family gathering. Elrond started to speak, standing behind Elladan, resting one of his hands on his eldest son's shoulders.

"I need to talk to the three of you about your mother."

Elrohir interrupted "Is she getting better?"

Elrond hesitated in his answer. "In some ways she is, her wounds are almost healed. I think she has spoken to all of you by now."

They all had had indeed awkward conversations with their mother. At first sight, she tried to be interested in what they were doing. However when they talked, she seemed to be absent, only superficially listening to what they told her, her mind drifting. Often she forgot that she had asked something already before, or she would stop reacting halfway through a story. To her children, she was only a shadow of how she had been. It was painful to them, seeing how she tried so hard to be all right.

Arwen had been silently looking to her hands, resting them in her lap. When she looked up she said "Father, maybe she just needs more time. She will recover, of all people you will be able to heal her."

Elrond gave her a sad smile but did not answer. Elrohir stood up and walked over to the table, taking a cup with some water. He looked to Elenluin, pensively. "You went through something similar, did you not? Glorfindel refused to tell us what happened, but from what I heard, you did recover from this type of wounds."

The smith had expected the question at some point, ever since Elrond had asked him to stay. "No two stories are the same Elrohir, and no two people are either, for that matter. I had my own burden to bear, yes, but do not try to compare."

Elrohir stubbornly continued "Still father was able to heal you, and you have lived a long time since then!"

Elrond's gaze met Elenluin's and they kept silent for a while. In the end Elenluin nodded. "I have, Elrohir, I have lived for a long time. There were duties I had to fulfil, people that I wanted to serve, and revenge driving me forward. What it cost me to go on, I hope you will never understand. With all due respect to your father, he never managed to heal me truly."

Elladan softly said "Elrohir, believe him. It is not what we want for mother. Have you not seen how she is only a shadow of herself? She tries so hard, to be there for us, but it is more like a ghost wandering around. Father, she will sail is it not?"

Elrond nodded "Yes, I believe she will. If she feels that we accept it. For now she still says she does not want to as she does not want to abandon us."

The three siblings regarded each other for a moment, understanding finally why their father had asked them to come.

"I will not stop her, father" Elladan was the first to speak. "If Aman can help her to be whole again, than that is where she should go, however much I will miss her."

Arwen nodded, tears in her eyes. "I will speak to her tomorrow, tell her, she needs to think of herself for once."

Elrohir was still reluctant in his answer. "She can fight, she can try at least a while longer. She is strong and we are there with her, why would she not stay with us?"

It was Elenluin who unexpectedly answered. "Because strength is relative, and there is no need for her to suffer here. If you doubt, ask her Elrohir, ask her what she wants and then follow. I do not doubt her answer, though it might not have been mine at the time when I found myself in similar circumstances. It took me more than three thousand years Elrohir, three thousand years of grief and pain, before I could even tell the story to someone else than your father here. Still I would not have done anything differently. But that was my own choice, my own way of dealing with things. As I said before, no two people are the same, no two cases comparable. Ask her Elrohir, ask her what she wants."

The youngest son pensively looked at Elenluin and replied: "I will not ask her, I will not increase her doubt or pain. I will trust you, father, and follow your advice. I will not stop her."

Elrond nodded, feeling utterly spent now that the thing was done. "I will talk to her. And I hope so will you. There is still time, she will not want to leave before spring is well on its way."

* * *

As they left Elenluin's rooms, later, much later, after a night filled with quiet talking on whatever was on their minds, the smith closed the door.

Pensively he poured himself a goblet of wine, going out to his terrace, watching the valley of Imladris. As he went outside he looked up, finding the familiar winter-shape of Menelmacar close. With the view of the Silmaril rising in the east, he thought about those nights a long time ago, when the world was young. And he knew that here, at this time, through all the pain and turmoil of the years, he was finally able to give peace to others, rather than needing it for himself. And raising his glass to the sky, he saluted the stars, quietly whispering the old mantra: Aiya Eärendil Elenion Ancalima…


	26. Chapter 26: Epilogue

III 3021

Elenluin was watching the sea. He liked being here in Mithlond, in Cirdan's havens, close to the ever comforting salty water.

It had been only a day since his oldest remaining friend had sailed for Aman. How the world would change once again, he did not know. And for the first time in all his long life, he felt like he should not care. He felt strangely free, as if his duty finally had ended. Earendil's son had sailed safely into the blessed realm with the other ringbearers and he considered his old promise to Ereinion completed. Of Fingolfin's house only Elrond's sons remained and they were fully capable of taking care of themselves, and if not there was always still their grandfather. Their sister was in the loving arms of her husband, helping him to govern his new-founded realm, and he knew they would be happy.

Many an evening he had spent these last centuries with Elrond, listening to his fears and doubts, for even the wise lore master of Rivendell did not know the answers to all the questions. They talked about what was happening in the world and on some occasions of his children. Elrond had been concerned about them above all. Elladan and Elrohir were still burning with hatred back then, swiping the land for orcs, fighting every single waking hour. He tried to reassure Elrond, that this too would pass, that they needed time and a good cause to fight for. He knew all too well what they were doing. As for Arwen, she had become estranged from her father, staying more often with her grandmother than here in his house and it grieved Elrond much to see his youngest child run away from his home and the memories that were irrevocably linked to it.

He had spent significantly more time in the house after Celebrian had left, feeling how his friend needed him close by. But still, he rode off to the mountains, to the hills, to the grassy plains of Rohan or wherever the latest news took him. He would no longer go alone, but would take some of the young ones that would follow him. Together they had at least tried to make the land a little safer for those who travelled. His group had not been the only one and now and then they met other wandering elven bands similar to his. Very few of them were left now, even Gildor Inglorion, who had spent such a long time escorting those that wanted to leave, had decided to go West in the end.

And in this last war that had surged over the lands these past years, he had not interfered, even if the enemy was well known to him, and still hated above all others. He limited himself to scouting for Imladris and forging weapons for elves and men alike. If he had contributed at all, then only by re-forging a sword of old, a flaming symbol to give to the one that had to carry hope to mankind, leaving the real search for glory to Anduril's master. Out of Imladris only the sons of Elrond had gone to Gondor representing the remaining Noldor, helping their brother in his final battle, they had all felt that this battle was not going to be fought by the Elves.

Estel, how he had seen him grow and thrive in Imladris when he visited. He had brought so much good and about as much sorrow to the house, this free spirited man-child. Elladan and Elrohir became close to him very early in his life, in a way raised him and shaped him and forgot their anger and hatred in doing so. For a while Elrond had been relieved and had hoped again, until he had seen how the young man had looked to the lady of the house.

But it was all in the past now, another war won, decisions made and some had left. And he would stay, for although the number of people that would welcome him in Aman was increasing with every cycle of the sun, he had decided to linger. He knew now that eventually, he too would sail, when Celeborn, Cirdan and the boys would leave he had decided to follow, but not yet.

He took out a small book that was hidden in his mantle, the starry cover fully faded and the colour unrecognisable after more than six thousand five hundred years. A tradition long gone, to write one's goodbye letter to a dear one in there, sort of a testament. He remembered how the survivors would look for these on their fallen comrades, hoping to find something to send back to the families that stayed behind, some loving words, some last thoughts.

He had never written to anyone else than Ereinion. Reading once more the five letters in there, he realised the text of the first one had all but faded. He smiled as he read, so old now, that first boyish one from the first days of the War of Wrath, the second reflecting the dreams and hopes of a young man when riding of to the unknown with Celebrimbor. The third he skipped, he knew what was there, and was not proud of the despair and the distance between him and the High King that clearly marked the letter he wrote on his last evening in Eregion. And then, nearly at the end, the fierce courage and hopes of the fourth at the Last alliance.

Most of the pages had remained blank after that, he had not felt the need to write these letters after Ereinion was gone. One other did it contain, a text of only two years old. Just the ponderings of one that had lived long enough to see the world change more than once.

He closed the book and took a long look at the glittering waves before him. Today, he would leave Mithlond on a personal quest. Far North, to the icy bays of Forochel he would go and travel along the sea back down. Looking for the memories of a dear long-lost friend, to see and hear if songs still existed, melodies were still known of one of the greatest bards that ever lived. Whiter he would find anything that Maglor had left behind, he did not know. But when nothing was left, he would sing, he would play and teach, to men, to hobbits, to nightingales if they wanted to learn. They could not be forgotten, when all of his kind had left Middle earth.

With one wide swing of his arm, a smile on his lips, even though his face was wet with tears, he threw the book far into the water. Freedom.


	27. Chapter 27: Footnotes

_Some remarks to the story_

I chose long ago to go with the Silmarillion's approach to Gil-Galad's parentage, naming Fingon as his father, other possibilities would mean significant adaptations to Elenluin's early history, so I decided to keep the original idea.

Having the Feanorians present at the war of Wrath seems natural to me, as they would have known the enemy best. Maglor and Maedhros defended the most critical positions at the borders of Angband for ages, not to mention the fact that their troups would have been sourly needed to tip the scales.

After Nirnaeth, their relationship with the others would have been tense, but I imagine Gil Galad still had some respect for them. Even after what happened in Sirion, he must have remembered some tales of his father Fingon about Maedhros, and potentially would have known both Feanorians as of his early childhood. To see that the twins were brought back unharmed and even well-cared for, would in my opinion have helped as well. He would not exactly have been happy to see his foster brother befriending them, but he as well might not have been completely opposed to it either. As the High King, he would have had the duty to keep all together.

As for Celebrimbor - even if he distanced himself from his family's oath and evil deeds during the fall of Nargothrond, he might still have wanted to see them now and then, and talk to his two eldest uncles- who are in any case portrayed significantly different than his father, Celegorm and Caranthir.

On the scars - although elves are considered stronger and more enduring than humans, I do not believe that they are near-magical creatures that heal without further ado. History tells that Maedhros suffered from his time in Angband and Gwindor never recovered fully after his capture by the dark lord. So I still think it plausible that scars would take a long time to heal, especially if the mind of the person was hurt deeply at the same time.

* * *

I tried to limit the number of elvish sentences/words throughout the story as I felt that it would hinder the natural flow of conversation, however the two only ones that sneaked in are Quenya sentences - which would have been strange in any case to their normal conversational Sindarin at those times:

_Aranya_ \- My king

_Aiya Eärendil Elenion Ancalima _\- Hail Earendil, brightest of stars

* * *

_About the music:_

The song Elenluin is starting before he goes to Fingon's lament is called "Bethlehem down" a traditional Christmas carol, which I selected because of the despair and hope combined speaking from melody and lyrics.

One day I might write the music and full lyrics to Elenluin &amp; Maglor's lament for Fingon, however for now imagine something like Handel's Sarabande.

Both the first paragraph of the chapters "The last alliance" and "Celebrian" are directly taken from Lord of the rings, the quote of Maglor was lifted from the Silmarillion - being the end of a larger conversation with his brother.

* * *

_About timings and ages:_

Elenluin is born around 465 First age, making him around twenty years younger than Gil-Galad and about sixty-seven years older than Elrond. Futile in later years, it must have been significant at the time of the war of Wrath, when he would have been on the verge of adulthood (approx 545-590 First age), while Elrond was still a child and Gil-Galad already carried the full responsibility as High King of the Noldor in exile.

At the fall of Eregion, this makes him about 1822 years old, thus his remark that Elladan and Elrohir were older than he was at that time when their mother was captured in the second age.

* * *

Although the story is marked complete, I might be editing still now and then, adding and removing pieces as I grow less or more happy with some parts :)

For those who are interested in reading more - there is a story out there called 'Solitude' which focuses on Gil-Galad and Elenluin n the aftermath of the fall of Eregion. It tells the tale of their friendship, their pain and struggles during the events around II 1701-1702 that lead to the foundation of Imladris. There might be a little overlap as you should be able to read each story on its own, but 'Solitude' could fit in this tale after +- chapter 13 and bridges some of the gaps between 13 &amp; 14.

Last but not least: thank you for reading! When I started this almost 13 years ago as a background for an RPG character, I had no idea that it would become a tale of so many years and so many events, but I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing. Feel free to leave your comments and reviews, as it is always good to know what the audience out there thinks !


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